Chasing Aphrodite
by MahliaLily
Summary: Defending Bjork: The Sequel. Season 3, Becka-style. Lit and JavaJunkie
1. She's Baack!

**Chasing Aphrodite**

**Chapter 1: She's Ba-ack!**

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Gilmore Girls or anything associated with it, and, more importantly, I don't claim to own any of it. Some lines in this chapter were borrowed from "Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days." I don't own those lines either, and I don't claim to own them._

**_A/N_**_: It took a lot of soul-searching before I decided to write this, but here it is. I hope to God I can stick with it, and I hope to God you'll stick with me as I write it. Thanks to **Ali, Elise, Leigh, **and **Marissa** for the encouragement. This chapter is dedicated to **Adriane** because I was still undecided about writing this, and then I received her lovely, flame-y review of DB, and well, it made up my mind. So thanks for that. Enjoy, everyone! And review… Becka._

The cell phone vibrated against the bedside table, making only the slightest whirring sound as it shook. Her ears easily attuned to the noise by now, Rory instantly awoke. Throwing a quick glance at Paris in the other bed, she snatched up the phone and slid down from her bed to sit on the floor.

"Hello?" she quietly answered, careful not to disturb her roommate.

Hearing her voice, Jess smiled and settled back into the chair he'd chosen among the empty diner tables. "Hey."

She grinned and whispered, "One second." Then, holding the phone tightly in her hand, she stood and inched towards the exit. After one more glance at Paris, she slipped out into the hallway and soundlessly clicked the door shut behind her. Taking a seat on the hard linoleum, she raised the phone to her ear. "And here I thought Paris's threats finally had an impact on you," she smiled.

"Huh, you must be confusing me with your other boyfriend," he retorted. "This is Jess."

"Jess, Jess," she mused, feeling out the name. She snapped her fingers. "Right, Jess! Of course I remember you."

"Oh, sure. Forgotten already," he said, pretending to be hurt.

"Not true. I remember you now."

"So my widely-acknowledged disregard for authority must've just slipped your mind then?"

"Yep, that, and your boyish good looks," she teased.

"And yet you bring them up."

"Actually, I think you're coming back into focus," Rory matter-of-factly replied. "I'm picturing you as the love child of Michael Bolton and Liza Minnelli. Long, blonde, curly hair; wide-set dark eyes. Look in the mirror and tell me if I'm close."

"You are deeply disturbed, you know that?" he asked.

She smiled. "I'm slightly aware."

He nodded to himself and traced a fingertip over a crack in the wood of the table. "How was your day?"

"Very political," she replied. "Yours?"

"Taylor's planning something, and Luke's pretty much pissed off every second that the planning goes on."

"So, good then?" Rory grinned.

"Yeah, great," Jess sarcastically agreed.

They both fell silent, only the faint rise and fall of their breath venturing across the phone line.

"What time is it?" Rory asked after a long pause.

"About 1:15. Sorry. Couldn't sleep," he answered, hoping she wouldn't ask why.

Rory leaned her head back against the door. "You know I don't mind."

He paused, disappointed.

When Jess didn't reply, Rory felt an urgent need to fill the silence. "I come home tomorrow," she said dumbly.

"You do," Jess confirmed, his voice slightly tight. "3 o'clock."

"Yep, 3 o'clock," Rory agreed.

"Did you want me to pick you up?" he asked awkwardly.

"My mom's meeting me."

"Ah."

"She's all excited," Rory tried to explain. "She had a premonition she was going to run into Ted Striker."

Jess nodded. "Makes sense."

"To her, yes, it does," Rory agreed.

There was another long silence.

Jess sighed. "It's late. I should probably let you go."

"I have this breakfast thing tomorrow."

"Okay," he nodded. "So… I'll see you when I see you."

"Okay," Rory agreed.

"Night, Rory."

"Jess?" she said quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Why is this weird all of a sudden?"

"What?"

"Talking to you. I've talked to you almost every day this summer, and this conversation feels different."

He hesitated. "You've been gone six weeks, Rory."

Rory's heart dropped into her stomach. "Oh," she said mechanically, not sure what to think of what he'd said.

After another silence, she decided she really needed clarification. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired," he sighed, realizing he was being ridiculous. "Forget I said anything."

"Jess…," she urged.

He took a deep breath. "It's just—" he began but trailed off.

"Just what?" Rory pushed, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt.

Picking up on the slight rise in her voice, he decided to just say it. "Nothing's changed, right? With you?"

Rory hesitated, confused. "Uh, well, my hair's a little longer. I'm not as tan as I'd like to be after a whole summer but…"

He smiled. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh," Rory paused. "What did you mean?"

He steeled himself. "If you changed your mind, you can tell me."

"Changed my mi—," Rory began, still confused. Then, suddenly understanding, she cut herself off and said loudly, "No! I haven—have you?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jess asked, relief flooding over him.

"Well, why would you think I had?"

"I just…" he began. Just what? Thought you came to your senses? Thought time away cleared your head? He let out a long breath. "…wasn't sure."

"Well, be sure, mister," Rory lightly reprimanded, trying to put him at ease. "As of tomorrow, you're stuck with me."

"Oh, great," Jess teased.

Rory smiled. "We need a better plan."

"We had a plan?"

"Exactly the problem. How about—?" she began.

"The bridge at 5?" Jess offered. "Will that give you enough time with your mom?"

"Exactly enough."

"Okay."

"Okay," Rory agreed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rory."

"Night, Jess," she replied. A moment later, he clicked off.

-

Rory had just entered the room again and shut the door behind her when her phone vibrated in her hand, startling her. In her surprise, she dropped the phone, and it clattered onto the floor. Immediately, her eyes shot to Paris. She watched nervously as Paris rolled around and sighed but then settled back into place, apparently still sleeping.

The phone shook again, skittering across the floor. With a deep frown, Rory grabbed it and hurried back out the door.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Who were you talking to at 1 in the morning?"

"Mom?" Rory asked.

"I've been trying to call for the last five minutes, and your line was busy. Are you working for a 900 service?"

"It was Jess," Rory explained.

"A-ha! I always suspected he was the type to go for something like that," Lorelai teased. "Let me hear your sultry, phone sex operator voice."

"Call me crazy," Rory replied, looking up and down the empty hall before taking a seat again. "But I have a feeling you didn't call in the middle of the night to hear my sultry voice."

"Now that's where you're mistaken," Lorelai retorted.

"Mom…" Rory warned.

"I had a bad dream."

"Keep talking," Rory prodded.

"Okay, well, I was locked in the dark tower room of a castle, and I looked kind of like Snow White. I had this long, luxurious, black hair, and I was wearing a fancy dress. It was all very medieval. However, unlike Snow White, instead of ruby red lips, my mouth was a zipper."

Rory started giggling.

"Don't laugh!" Lorelai ordered. "I cannot believe you're laughing."

"Sorry," Rory apologized. "What happened next?"

"Well, apparently, I had been cursed with this zipper mouth, and only a prince could undo the spell, so, in the dream, all of these handsome men were brought to the room, but they were all too scared of my zipper mouth to kiss me and break the spell." Hearing her daughter suppress another giggle, Lorelai glared at her across the phone lines but continued. "But then, the door opened, and Luke walked in."

"Was he wearing tights?" Rory asked.

"No, he was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and a baseball cap."  
"Of course," Rory accepted.

"Tights would've pushed the dream from bad to nightmarish."

Rory smiled. "Continue, please."

"So, Luke walks across the room, and, without any hesitation, he kisses me, and my zipper lips are replaced with ruby red lips."

"And?"

"And then he and I started making out, and then I woke up," Lorelai finished quickly.

"Okay, please tell me you don't need me to analyze this dream," Rory teased.

"I need a little reassurance."

"You need to talk to Luke," Rory stated.

"I don't need to talk to Luke," Lorelai disagreed. "I need you to tell me that I'm insane, so I can go on with my life."

"You're insane."

"Thank you."

"And you need to talk to Luke."

"I _don't_ need to talk to Luke."

"Mom, all summer you've been having increasingly bizarre dreams that all end in you making out with Luke. You need to talk to Luke."

"Why?" Lorelai asked stubbornly.

"Because the two of you almost kissed," Rory rationalized. "And now both of you have spent the last two months pretending like it didn't happen and refusing to talk about it."

"Which has been working just fine. He gives me coffee. I smile and say something witty. It works for us."

"Fine, then you'll keep having the dreams."

"I _can't_ keep having these dreams. I almost woke Gus up this time."

There was a pause, and then Rory said hesitantly, "Almost woke Gus up?"

"Umm…" Lorelai hedged.

"As in, you almost called him and woke him up?" Rory asked.

"Not exactly."

"Mom! When did this happen?"

"A couple of weeks ago…"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Well, he sort of tripped and landed in my bed, and he liked it, so he just kept tripping and… landing."

"I can't believe this," Rory muttered, shaking her head.

"What?"

"What about Luke?" Rory asked.

"What does Luke have to do with this?"

"You've been dreaming about making out with Luke all summer," Rory reminded her, frustrated.

"And I'm trying to fix that."

"Well, the only way to fix that is to talk to Luke," Rory stated stubbornly.

There was a long silence, and then a sigh. "Fine," Lorelai conceded.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lorelai responded. "So I still get airport duty, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay, I'll see you on Friday."

Rory smiled. "I'll see you on Friday. And Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"The dream didn't seem that bad."

"Insanity is hereditary, you know."

"I'm just saying…"

"G'night, Rory."

Rory grinned. "Night, Mom."

-

The next morning, Lorelai stood outside the diner door, staring in but not moving. A few times, she reached her hand out towards the handle but never actually made physical contact with it before jerking her hand away.

She was making attempt number 4 when a voice behind her caused her to yank her hand back.

"Problem?"

She whirled around to face the voice's owner. "Jess."

He smirked. "You do realize you've been standing here for about 5 minutes, right?"

"Rory's not allowed to date stalkers, you know."

He held up the bag in his hand. "We ran out of tomatoes. Just doin' my job."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said irritably, moving aside.

He gave her a curious look. "Is something wrong?"

Forcing a smile, she shook her head. "Nope." When he didn't seem to buy it, she added, "I'm not very nice before I get my morning coffee."

He nodded and moved past her to the door. "I remember."

Pulling it open, he stepped to the side and waited for her to walk in.

"What?" she asked, looking at him.

"C'mon, I'll get you your coffee."

Hesitating, she glanced into the diner and saw Luke behind the counter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jess asked again.

She looked back at him and nodded. "Yeah, but… shoot! I just remembered I left my iron on."

"Okay," Jess accepted, slightly baffled.

"Can I get a rain check on that coffee?"

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged.

She nodded and quickly walked away.

Jess stared after her and then headed into the diner.

-

"So, anyway, the restaurant was actually fairly decent," Paris relayed. "And that wanton hussy of a waitress eventually got hers. Bolognese sauce does stain, doesn't it?"

"Was she wearing white?" Rory asked.

"Yes."

"It'll stain," Rory promised.

Paris grinned. "That's too bad."

"So you had a good time?"

"It was all right," Paris shrugged.

Rory smiled, knowing that in Paris terms that pretty much equated to a great time. "I'm glad."

"He said he'd call me," Paris said hopefully.

"That's a good sign."

Paris frowned. "But don't they always say that?"

"Not alw—" Rory began.

"And then they don't call," Paris interrupted. "He isn't going to call. He probably had a miserable time. He's probably calling the waitress as we speak to recommend a good dry cleaner."

"He'll call you," Rory assured her.

Paris narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?"

"I just know," she smiled, glancing out the window as they landed.

Paris considered the statement for a moment and then looked down at her hands. "So can I call you if he calls?" she asked hesitantly.

Rory looked at her and grinned. "You better."

-

As Rory exited the gate, she heard her mother's voice call out to her. "Hey Gilmore!"

Grinning, she looked in her direction. "Mom!"

They ran towards each other, and Rory dropped her carry-on and pulled her mother into a hug. They were so excited that they fell to the ground in a heap. "Ow! Ow!"

"Ah!" Rory exclaimed.

"Ow!" Lorelai agreed.

Laughing, they stood up and brushed themselves off. "Luckily, there are video cameras everywhere that caught that very graceful moment on tape," Lorelai joked.

"I am so glad to see you!" Rory exclaimed, hugging her mother again.

"No, I'm glad to see you."

"I'm never leaving home again," Rory vowed as she tightened her grip.

"Oh, that's my emotionally stunted girl," Lorelai teased, pulling away. "Hey, I got you gifts."

"What? I'm the one who left town. I'm supposed to get you gifts."

"Oh, but I got here early, and there was nothing to do except feed gummy bears to the bomb-sniffing dogs, which, apparently, the United States government frowns upon."

"You got in trouble with the government while you were waiting for me?" Rory asked.

"Just a little."

"How much is a little?"

"Learn Russian. Okay, here you go," Lorelai said, pulling a shirt out of a bag and handing it to Rory

"Wow! A Hartford, Connecticut sweatshirt," Rory commented.

"Nice, huh?"

Rory looked through the rest of the bags. "Hartford, Connecticut notebook. Hartford, Connecticut pencil set. A Hartford, Connecticut shot glass."

"And beer mug," Lorelai added.

"Hartford baguette, Hartford bear, Hartford sunglasses."

"You like?" Lorelai asked.

Rory looked up and smiled. "I love."

"All right," Lorelai nodded. "Let's go. We'll get your bags, then we'll hit the road, and I can't wait to hear all about Washington. And, by the way, I got you out of dinner with the Gilmores tonight. I thought you and Jess might want some time."

Rory looked at her mom gratefully, knowing how much it was taking for her to overcome her dislike for Jess. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. How much time do I get?"

"I'm supposed to meet him at 5."

"Then talk fast, missy. How was Washington?"

"That isn't going to work, you know," Rory warned her as they walked through the airport.

"What?" Lorelai asked.

"Did you talk to Luke?"

"He hasn't been available," Lorelai lied.

Rory narrowed her eyes. "He hasn't?"

"Avoiding Taylor and the festival is keeping him _very _busy."

"But you're going to talk to him?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

"You did," Rory agreed.

"Well, I keep my promises."

"What about two years ago when you promised you would never eat another juicy pear Jelly Belly again?" Rory asked, giving her a doubtful look.

Lorelai's mouth fell open. "You try to stay away from those things! They've perfected mind control, I swear. They talk to me in my sleep."

Rory smirked. "Ok, what about my pony? Where's my pony?" she asked, looking around the terminal.

"What pony?"

"The pony you promised me on my sixth birthday. You crossed your heart."

"Okay, I said someday. And _someday_, you and I will have a pony."

"Sure," Rory guffawed.

"Promises take time," Lorelai explained. "Otherwise, they wouldn't be worth making, which is why you'll have to be patient with me with this Luke thing."

"Fine," Rory frowned.

"I _will_ talk to him," Lorelai vowed.

"Okay."

"And we will get our pony!"

"I'm sure we will," Rory agreed.

"Now, stop harassing Mommy and tell me about Washington," she pried.

"Paris had a date!" Rory exclaimed, suddenly remembering.

"Ooh, details!" Lorelai begged, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders as they walked.

-

"Taylor outdid himself this time," Rory announced as they walked through the festival-decked streets a couple hours later.

"Notice the banner," Lorelai pointed out. "He's very proud."

"As he should be," Rory agreed. "I missed this."

"It missed you," Lorelai smiled.

Rory glanced at her watch.

"I take it my time's up?" Lorelai asked.

"You'll get the rest of the details tonight, I promise."

"It's a plan."

They paused in front of Luke's, and Rory looked in. The diner was empty, as everyone was enjoying the festival's offerings.

"Luke doesn't look busy," Rory stated, turning to her mother.

Lorelai glanced in the window and sighed. "You aren't letting me out of this one, are you?"

"Nope," Rory shook her head.

"I get you out of Friday night dinner, and this is the thanks I get."

"Well, look at it this way, if you need an out from the conversation with Luke, the dinner is an easy excuse."

"Trading one uncomfortable situation for another? Fabulous."

Rory leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."

"I'll see you later," Lorelai moped.

Rory smiled and headed towards the bridge.

-

Taking a deep breath, Lorelai walked up the steps and entered the diner. Luke looked up as she entered and gave her a curt nod. She smiled and approached the counter.

"Coffee?"

"You expect me to turn that offer down?" she joked.

He gave her a small smile and filled up a mug.

Sitting down, she immediately lifted the cup and took a long sip. Luke went back to checking the receipts.

A silence fell over the diner. Then, abruptly, Lorelai spoke, her voice loud amid the quiet. "Hey Luke?"

"Yeah?" he asked, not looking up.

"We should probably talk about it."

He glanced up. "Talk about what?"

"The moment?"

"You've lost me," he frowned.

"Outside my house, the night Jess came back, we never talked about it."

Luke looked back down at the slips of paper in front of him. "Ah."

"It just—," Lorelai began. "It felt like… something."

"It was nothing," Luke stated, still not looking up.

She turned her eyes to her coffee mug. "That's funny because, to me, it kinda felt like –"

"Like what?" Luke asked casually.

"Like you wanted to kiss me," Lorelai finished.

Luke froze.

"Were you – I mean, did you – want to –"

"No," Luke interrupted.

"Oh," Lorelai said flatly.

He looked at her then and swore he saw disappointment flicker in her eyes.

"But did – I mean," he floundered.

She shook her head. "I'm seeing Gus."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I remember that."

"So… good. Then, that's settled."

"It is," he agreed.

"Okay. Thanks for the coffee then."

"You're welcome," Luke said awkwardly.

Lorelai stood and walked towards the door. Then, stopping, she turned back around. "I forgot to pay."

"No, it's okay," he waved her off.

"I insist," she stated, walking towards the till. Standing in front of him, she pulled a few bills out and held them towards him.

Slowly, he reached out to take them. As he did, his fingers brushed hers, and they both felt a shock of electricity. Her eyes shot up and held his. After a long moment, he opened the till and placed the money inside.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Lorelai replied. "I'll see you later."

He nodded, and she headed for the door. Once she was outside, she paused on the front stoop. _Wait, was that a moment?_she wondered, confused all over again.

-

Turning a corner, Rory immediately saw him. He was sitting in the middle of the bridge, his legs dangling over the side and his eyes trained on the water. She smiled, despite the sudden nervousness that washed over her. When her shoes hit the planks of the bridge, he glanced over at her and smiled back in a way she'd never seen before. In a way she immediately loved.

"Hey," she said softly, approaching him.

He stood up and turned to face her. "Hey."

She smiled shyly.

"So, you're back?" he stated.

"I'm back," she nodded.

His eyes traced over her face. "You're right. Your hair is longer," he mused, reaching out to brush a strand behind her ear.

Instinctively, she reached up as well, and her hand grazed against his. Gliding his fingers across hers, he wound their hands together and drew her a step closer to him.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"Good," she said simply.

He nodded and took a step forward.

She grinned and gave him a serious perusal. "You don't look much like Michael and Liza's love child after all."

"No?" he asked, lightly tracing his thumb across the palm of her hand.

"Nope, much better."

"Huh."

"Guess I just needed to be reminded," she decided.

He nodded. "Seems so."

She peered up at him. "There's something else I can't _quite_ remember."

"Yeah? What?"

"This," she stated, pulling him forward the remaining distance and joining his lips to hers. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and deepened the kiss.

Pulling away slightly, she brushed his lips with a smile and then looked up into his eyes. "See, that's not quite how I remembered it either."

He hesitated. "It isn't?"

She shook her head. "No cigarettes."

He smirked. "I could start up again."

"You better not," she warned.

"I could be persuaded."

She smiled and leaned her forehead against his. "I could persuade," she stated.

With a slow grin, he drifted his fingers up to rest on her cheek and leisurely claimed her lips again.


	2. Tattoo It on My Heart

**Chasing Aphrodite**

**Chapter 2: Tattoo It on My Heart**

**_Disclaimer:_**_ Don't own. I'm not ASP. I'm not her husband. I'm not one of her writing minions. I'm just a girl with a laptop and a Literati dream._

**_A/N_**_: WOW! I don't know what to say! Nearly 50 reviews for one chapter? I'm just flabbergasted and really, really flattered. I hope I do you all justice and give you a story you'll enjoy. I'll do my best, and all I ask is that you keep reviewing. It really made me happy and drove me to write as fast as I could, given my very little free time. You all rock! This chapter is dedicated to **Jules** because I can't believe I forgot her in the first chapter. She deserves not only a dedication but a plaque, a trophy, a statue, and an honorary monument. She's a great beta, a wonderful writer, and the best friend a person could ask for. Thanks for everything, darling. Becka_

"I mean, why is that?" Rory asked animatedly, causing Jess to smirk. She had been babbling ever since they'd sat down side-by-side on the bridge about an hour ago, and she was showing no signs of stopping. "You never hear about the Folger Shakespeare Library. It's always 'Smithsonian this' and 'Library of Congress that,' which isn't to say that they weren't great because they were everything their reputation suggests. I just happen to prefer the hidden treasures our nation's capital has to offer."

"Of course," Jess agreed with mock-seriousness.

"I'll admit, at first, I _was_ a little disappointed," Rory stated, gesturing into the air. "I had read great things about 'The Pen's Excellencie' exhibit, and it closed a few weeks before we got there. The new exhibit is based around the Folgers, which doesn't seem as exciting at first, but as it turns out, they were pretty amazing."

"How do you figure?" Jess asked.

"They devoted their _entire_ lives to creating this collection of Shakespearean works. It was their passion. Literature brought them together, and it kept them together."

His eyes traced over her face. "Huh."

Rory glanced at him, noticing his intense expression. "What?"

"Nothing," he answered, slowly shaking his head for emphasis.

Not buying it, Rory blushed and turned her gaze back to the expanse of water beneath them. "I'm talking too much," she admitted.

Taking a peek at her out of the corner of his eyes, he smirked. "Nope," he disagreed. "It's just we've been sitting out here for quite a while now while I've patiently listened to you talk about everything you didn't have time for on the phone." She looked over at him, locking her eyes with his. "We can't put it off forever, you know," he finished.

She blinked uncertainly. "What?"

"My gift," he teased. "I'm really starting to suspect you didn't get me anything."

"Oh," Rory said, surprised at his answer. "Uh… actually, I did get you something."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," she recovered, smiling at him. "And you're gonna love it."

When she made no movement, he spoke. "Well, don't leave me in suspense."

Her smile turned into a grin as she reached into the pocket of her jacket. Meeting his eyes, she held out an envelope.

He gave her a curious look and took it. Peering inside, he grimaced. "Gee, you shouldn't have," he joked, pulling out a cheap, brightly colored, Shakespeare tattoo.

"It screamed 'Jess,'" she explained. "I had to get it."

He nodded. "I bet it did."

"My mom always wanted me to date a guy with lots of tattoos."

"Yeah?"

"Yup," Rory nodded, giving him a satisfied smile.

"You do know I'm never wearing this, right?" he asked, looking at her.

Leaning towards him, Rory gave him a quick kiss. "We'll see about that," she whispered.

"You're gonna have to do better than that."

She smiled and captured his lips again, drawing the kiss out this time. "Better?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"Much."

She grinned.

"But I'm still never wearing this."

Not sure whether to smile or frown, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Fine."

"C'mon, you did _not_ honestly think I would wear that."

She shrugged, grateful he couldn't see the grin on her face. "I thought you liked me. My mistake."

"Oh, sure!" he exclaimed. "Bring out the heavy guns."

She shifted her head on his shoulder and peered up at him. "Don't you like me?"

"Nope," he stated. "Not if you expect me to wear that."

"I'm the only one who'll see it," she bargained. "I promise. No one else will ever know."

"Stop," he ordered, his tone light.

She responded with an exaggerated sigh then lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Cold?"

She shook her head, but he drew her closer anyway. They sat like that for a while, looking out over the water.

"This is our first time here as a couple," Rory pointed out, intertwining her fingers with his.

He looked down at their hands and sighed, remembering the last time they'd been at the bridge, the night before he'd left for New York.

Rory's mind had drifted there as well. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it immediately, choosing instead to lift his hand and place a small kiss below his knuckles. As she lowered it back to her lap, she chanced a quick glance at him. He was looking at her with that serious expression again.

Sensing that she was about to read his thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed her, effectively cutting off any such efforts on her part. She let out a small breath, and he drew it in. After a long moment, he felt her lips curve against his mouth, and then she pulled away. Peering in the direction of the town square, her eyes lit up. "Is that polka music?"

Focusing his attention on the music, Jess scowled.

Rory looked back over at him and grinned. "That _is _polka music. I thought the band was from New York."

He shifted back to a more comfortable position. "Yeah, well, they have polka bands in New York."

"And how would you know that?" Rory teased.

"My mom's been married more than once. I've heard my share of New York polka."

Rory giggled. "Did you dance?"

"Hell no!" he exclaimed.

She smiled knowingly but didn't push the issue.

"You're missing the whole festival," Jess pointed out.

She smiled at him and burrowed closer again. "I know."

"Taylor would not approve of your blasé attitude."

"Taylor wouldn't approve of a lot of things I do these days," Rory replied, placing a gentle kiss on his neck. "I guess he'll just have to deal with it."

Jess looked down at her and smiled. "I guess so."

They fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the jaunty polka music as it mingled with the gentle lapping of the lake.

It lasted about twenty seconds before Jess whispered, "Rory?"

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled.

"This music is killing me."

Peeking up at him, she noticed the pained look on his face and laughed. "C'mon," she offered, standing up.

He shook his head. "Look, you know I like you, but you are not dragging me into that."

Rory leaned down and gave him a long kiss. "Trust me."

He hesitated for another second. Then, reluctantly, he stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, letting her lead the way.

-

As they approached the town square, the music got louder, mixing with the loud chatter of the townspeople as they enjoyed the food, games, and company the festival had to offer. Rory felt Jess tense slightly by her side, causing her to look up at him.

"This is the only way to get to the other side of town," she reminded him.

Jess looked around. Everywhere, there were streamers, ribbons, and balloons. Games and food booths were set up throughout the square, not a single one without a long line of patient Stars Hollow residents waiting for their turn. In the gazebo, the New York polka band proudly strummed their instruments, looking like they couldn't think of a more fun gig to play. It was like some kid's giant piñata had blown up in the sky, raining its contents down on the town below. Jess shook his head. "How is it that he manages to make each one of these worse than the last?"

Rory tore her eyes away from the gathering and grinned at him. "You and Luke really bonded while I was gone, didn't you?"

"What?"

"You sound just like him," she teased.

"I do not," Jess argued. "Anyone could see this town is insane."

"And yet the only two people refusing to participate are you and Luke."

"So what? Occasionally, Luke has a good idea. It doesn't mean anything."

"Okay, Mini-Luke," Rory mocked.

"Don't call me that!"

"Fine, you aren't Mini-Luke. Want to prove it? We could stop and play a game."

"Are you kidding?" Jess asked. "You've been going to these your entire life. Are you seriously telling me that you haven't figured out they're rigged?"

Shooting puppy dog eyes at him, she pouted. "Don't you want to win me a stuffed animal?"

"So you can be attached to it for about half a day and then let it gather dust under your bed?" He shook his head. "Nope, not really."

Rory stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist, stopping him from walking. "You're cute when you act like Luke."

"Yeah? Well, you're kinda reminding me of Lorelai right now."

"Thank you," Rory smiled.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's not really turning me on," Jess quipped.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You should be happy about that," he stated. "If I found your mom attractive, we'd have a serious problem. But apparently, since you think Luke is cute…"

"I did not say that!" Rory disagreed.

"No, it's good that I know. But have you told Lorelai? 'Cuz I have a feeling she'd have an opinion."

Rory opened her mouth to argue again but stopped herself. "Fine, twist my words all you want," she said instead, giving him a peck on the lips. "My original statement stands. Now let's keep walking before the music does you in."

They only got a few feet before Lane spotted them from among the crowd and hurried over. "Rory!" she squealed, pulling her best friend into a long hug. Jess took a step back, letting them get reacquainted.

Lane pulled away and smiled. "Hey Jess."

"Lane," he acknowledged.

She turned back to Rory and gave her a quick appraisal. "You look unscathed. I'll have you know that I tried to warn your mom she shouldn't have bet against you."

Rory gave Lane a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"She lost the pool. We had a little wager going on whether or not you'd survive your time with Paris. Thanks to you, the new Vandals album is mine."

"Glad I could help, but what if you'd lost?"

"Well, then, I was supposed to 'take care' of the 'Jess problem'," Lane finger-quoted. She glanced around Rory at Jess. "Sorry, Jess. I promise I was going to make it as painless as possible. I figured some high-quality but lethal drugs in your soda would do the trick. Not that I gave it much thought," she laughed nervously.

"Of course not," Jess mocked.

"Hey, on the bright side, Rory here saved your life," Lane reminded him, patting her friend on the shoulder. "You owe her. It isn't easy to survive Paris."

"I'll be sure to thank her," Jess promised, smirking at his girlfriend.

"So, Rory," Lane began. "How was the trip? I want details."

"Hey Rory," Jess interrupted, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm gonna go. We can meet up later."

"Oh, shoot!" Lane exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have interrupted."

"No, it's okay," Rory assured her, though not particularly convincingly.

"No, really. You two haven't seen each other in weeks, and despite being a couple, you haven't really _been_ a couple yet, so I should just go and let you be a couple. Not that talking on the phone doesn't qualify as being a couple," she quickly amended. "I mean, there are lots of people who only talk on the phone and still qualify as couples. But you two don't have to worry about that because here you are, together, being a couple. If I'd leave, that is, which I am. Right now." Smiling at them both, she started to walk away. Then, abruptly, she turned back around. "I promise this won't always be this awkward. I'm still adjusting."

"It's okay," Rory reassured her.

"Jess is shorter," she explained. "I actually almost have to look him in the eye when I talk. It's a little disorienting. Not that you're short, Jess. You're not," she declared, appraising him. "What are you, six feet?"

"About 5'9," he supplied.

"Oh, well, you still have time to grow."

"I'll try to remember that," Jess smirked.

"I was going, wasn't I?" Lane asked, nodding vigorously. "Am going, actually. Gone. I'm gone," she finished, darting off before she said anything else.

As soon as she was gone, Rory turned back to Jess. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry. I still have time to grow," he joked.

She stepped forward and kissed him. "I like you how you are."

"Good thing," he teased, wrapping his arm back around her waist.

She rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled. "See, perfect height."

Amused, he shook his head. "I'm convinced, I promise."

Rory nodded, and they started winding through the festival again. "My mom didn't really order a hit on you, you know."

"Well, she tried, but she lost the bet," Jess reminded her.

"She had only nice things to say about you while I was gone."

He shrugged. "I just stayed out of her way."

"And she thought that was very nice."

Jess looked over at the crowd. "What are the odds we'll get out of here before someone else sees you're back?"

"Feeling possessive, are we?" Rory teased.

"Nope. Just like I'm stuck in a bad episode of _The __Lawrence__ Welk Show._"

"See, now that's not possible. _The Lawrence Welk Show_ was genius. They still repeat it on TV sometimes, you know?"

"Consider me warned."

"Ooh!" Rory exclaimed, bouncing a little. "That could be your first movie night with me and Mom! She'll be so excited!"

"Just hide the knives," Jess deadpanned.

"I told you she didn't really bet your life," Rory repeated, making a note to scold Lane for the suggestion.

"Not from her. From me. Every once in a while, I might get this _crazy _urge to gouge out my eyes."

Rory smiled up at him. "Just as long as you can still hear the pretty music," she tormented, taking his hand from her waist to hold it in hers.

"Rory!" a voice called from the crowd.

"Oh great," Jess moaned, recognizing it as Kirk's.

Rory glanced in Kirk's direction and saw him winding his way through several lines of people. She hesitated.

"Please keep walking," Jess said just loud enough for her to hear.

She looked at him. "What? I can't just ignore him."

"Rory!" Kirk called desperately. "Wait! Is that you? Are you alive? All limbs intact?"

"I promise you, you can ignore him," Jess stated, trying to pick up their pace.

She frowned. "Jess."

He met her eyes. "If you ignore him this one time," he swallowed, not believing he was about to say this. "I'll wear the damn tattoo."

Rory's face immediately lit up. "Ignore who?" she asked innocently, allowing Jess to hurry her away from the festival.

"Rory! Wait!" Kirk called after them, just reaching the place where they'd been. He looked over at a group of people standing nearby. "Did you see her? Rory Gilmore? Was that her?" He peered after them. "I have a very nice Ewok gumball machine riding on this," he explained. He glanced at another group. "Rory Gilmore? Anyone?"

-

Feeling small in front of the imposing house she grew up in, Lorelai took a deep breath and reached out to ring the doorbell. However, before she had a chance to press the button, the door flew open, and her mother appeared before her.

"Lorelai!" Emily exclaimed. "There you are!"

"Mom!" Lorelai replied, surprised. "You answered the door."

"Of course I did. What? Did you think I wasn't capable?"

"No, I always suspected you were capable. But you do know that, generally, people wait for that ringing sound, right? Sort of a ding-dongy noise."

Emily stepped aside and let her in. "I know what a doorbell is, Lorelai. I saw you coming up the walk. Come in! Take off your coat!"

Lorelai eyed her mother suspiciously as she shrugged over her jacket. "You're awfully eager tonight."

"Oh," Emily cheered, leading Lorelai into the other room. "That's because I just had the most marvelous idea. Drink?" she asked, holding up a decanter.

Lorelai was about to answer when her father walked into the room. "Lorelai, welcome!" he greeted her. "Your mother just had the most marvelous idea."

"So I keep hearing," Lorelai acknowledged. "I think I'll definitely have that drink, Mom, thanks."

Emily smiled and filled some glasses. Then, after handing one to Lorelai and one to Richard, she took a seat on the edge of the sofa and beamed at her daughter. With an equally startling grin on his face, Richard sat beside Emily.

Lorelai knocked back her drink and set the empty glass on the table. "Okay, I'm ready. What's going on?"

"How's August?" Emily asked. "You are still with him, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mom," Lorelai hesitantly replied. "I'm still with Gus."

"Oh, fabulous! Your father and I were talking, and we wanted to take him up on his offer."

"What offer would that be?" Lorelai asked, not liking the sounds of this.

"Why, to visit his restaurant, of course! McCullough's, isn't it?"

"You want to visit Gus's restaurant?"

"Yes, it's been forever since your father and I had some good Irish cuisine, isn't that right, Richard?" Emily asked, glancing at her husband.

"I think it may be a first, in fact," Richard agreed. "It's hard to find good Irish food," he explained to Lorelai.

"I see," Lorelai nodded. "Well, I'll talk to Gus, but McCullough's generally has a long waiting list so I don't know if he cou—"

"Oh, don't be silly, Lorelai. The man's dating you, isn't he? Surely he could get us all a table."

"I guess I could ask," she offered weakly.

"We were thinking tomorrow," Emily continued. "Since we somehow managed to confuse the day of Rory's return from DC, we figured she could come along. That way, we'll still get to see her this week."

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes," Emily nodded, looking at Richard. He nodded in agreement.

"You want to have dinner at McCullough's with Rory and me and Gus, _tomorrow_?" Lorelai repeated, processing the information.

"She's skipping, Richard," Emily teased. "Should we jostle her?"

Richard laughed.

Lorelai gaped at them. "Wow! Whatever they're growing in Martha's Vineyard these days, I want a double shipment."

"We just had a wonderful time, that's all," Emily explained, smiling at her husband.

"I can see that," Lorelai nodded.

"So what do you think? Will tomorrow work?"

"I guess, yeah, maybe," Lorelai stammered. "It's just… I'm already here tonight, and I didn't exactly plan on having two dinn—"

"Oh, we thought you might say that," Emily replied. "So there's no dinner tonight. You can go home as soon as we settle this matter."

"Oh," Lorelai accepted.

"You'll give Gus a call then?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'll give Gus a call," Lorelai agreed, shell-shocked.

"Excellent," Emily exclaimed, rising from the sofa. "It was lovely seeing you tonight, Lorelai. Just call us with the details."

Awkwardly, Lorelai stood up and nodded.

"Should I walk you out?" Emily offered.

"No, Mom, I'm fine," Lorelai assured her.

"All right. Good-night then."

"Good-night, Lorelai," Richard added.

Throwing one last glance at them over her shoulder, Lorelai mumbled good-night, retrieved her coat, and walked stiffly out the door.

-

Smiling back at Jess as he stepped in through the door behind her, Rory flicked on a light and walked into the living room.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing at the couch.

He shook his head. "I wasn't serious. It was a joke."

"Sit," she repeated.

"I thought you had a sense of humor," he retorted.

Rory grinned and walked over to her boyfriend. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him to the couch and forced him to sit. "Wait here," she demanded.

He watched as she darted out of the room. "What are you doing?"

When she didn't reply, he sighed and waited. A moment later, she hurried back in, carrying a washcloth and a small bowl of water.

"What's that for?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

Not answering, she sat down beside him and extended her palm. "Hand it over."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Jess…"

Leaning towards her, he pulled her into a kiss. After a long moment, he released her lips, and she let out a small gasp for air. He smirked.

"Don't make me search your pockets," she threatened, recovering from his distraction.

His smirk grew. "Doesn't sound so bad."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and finally, he reached into his pocket and handed her the tattoo.

Instantly, her face brightened. "Where do you want it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "I'll choose," she decided. She looked him over, appraising the situation. "Take off your jacket."

To her surprise, he removed it without protest, revealing long sleeves underneath. She frowned. "Well, that won't work," she sighed.

Face expressionless, he met her eyes. "I could take it off."

She blushed. "No, don't do that," she said quickly. "It's fine. I'll just…" She looked him over again. Then, deciding, she reached out and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his wrist and then his lower arm. "Put it here," she finished. Without another thought, she peeled the plastic off the tattoo and laid it on his arm. Then, she dampened the washcloth and pressed it on the tattoo. He sighed deeply, drawing her attention.

"Don't be a baby," she reprimanded, grinning from ear to ear. "It'll take less than a minute."

"Great," he muttered.

After thirty seconds, he started tapping his foot impatiently.

"It's almost done," she promised.

"There will be payback, you know."

Rory smiled and lifted the washcloth off. "There!" she cheered, eyeing her handiwork.

Jess looked down at his arm. "That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Her face fell. "No, it isn't. It looks cute."

He trailed his eyes up to her face. "You're warped."

"And you're branded," Rory teased, running her fingers over the tattoo to make sure it was sticking.

"You're very territorial," he chided as Rory lifted her hand and moved to put the washcloth on the table. In a quick movement, he gently reached out and stopped her, enfolding her hand in his. She met his eyes, and then just as quickly, he was pulling her closer and tracing the fingers of his free hand along the slight dip in her chin and then up to the angle of her jaw.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He smiled. "Thanking you for saving my life."

She barely had time to exhale before his hand found her hair and his lips were on hers.

Instinctively, she leaned in closer, and he deepened the kiss, releasing her hand and wrapping his arm around her waist. His other hand played lightly with the hair behind her ear, causing her to shiver. He smiled and moved his lips along her cheek to her neck, caressing the warm skin he found there. Before she knew what was happening, she felt him guiding her back against the other armrest until she was partially reclining. He was just shifting to find her lips again when the phone rang. He froze.

Like a splash of cold water, the phone brought Rory back to her senses, and she gently shoved him away and hurried to pick it up. "Hello?"

Still trying to figure out what just happened, Jess repositioned himself on the couch and leaned his head against its back. When he heard Rory say "Paris?", he groaned and closed his eyes.

-

Phone still to her ear, Rory walked into her room and shut the door. "What's going on?"

"He hasn't called," Paris anxiously told her.

"Who?" Rory asked.

"Jamie!" she exclaimed.

Rory sat on her bed. "It hasn't been that long," she patiently replied.

"Our date ended at 11:34 last night. It's been exactly twenty hours and six minutes since he last saw me."

"Okay," Rory said hesitantly. "That's still less than a day."

"That's twenty hours and six minutes he could've spent realizing that he never wants to see me again."

"Paris, that's ridiculous."

"Not according to Ellen and Sherrie," Paris contended.

Rory's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Who are Ellen and Sherrie?"

"Okay, Gilmore, I know Stars Hollow is barely one step above Nowhereville, but your town might want to consider getting with the times."

"Who are Ellen and Sherrie, Paris?"

"They wrote 'The Rules'," Paris said irritably.

Rory suppressed a smile. "Please tell me you didn't buy that."

"It was on sale!" Paris protested.

"And you're actually taking it seriously?"

"They make some good points, and the more I think about it, the more they're probably right," Paris stated.

"About what?"

"About me and Jamie. It's one of the top ten rules. If he hasn't called, it isn't because he's too busy or because he lost your number, it's because he isn't interested."

"I saw how Jamie looked at you, Paris. He was interested," Rory promised.

"In that moment, maybe, and that is a very unlikely maybe, but _maybe_ he was interested. But then we had dinner, and I spoke, and I probably offended him. I've been told I do that sometimes."

"Give him a few more days."

"Why?" Paris protested. "So I can get my hopes up? You're enjoying this, aren't you? You're probably cuddling with Jess right now while I'm sitting here alone. I bet the two of you are laughing because you know Jamie isn't going to call."

Rory glanced at her closed door and frowned. "That isn't true."

"Just tell me he isn't going to call, so I can move on with my life," she ordered.

"I'm not going to do that," Rory stated.

"Why?"

"Because he's going to call," Rory repeated. "He could be trying right now."

"Oh my God! Do you think he is?" Paris asked, sounding panicked. "You're right. Jamie could be trying to call right now, and I'm sitting here on the phone with _you_. I have to go."

Rory smiled. "Bye, Paris."

"Bye," Paris hurried, disconnecting the call.

-

Rory set the phone on her bed and stared at the closed door. Then, taking a deep breath, she pulled it open and walked back out into the living room. Jess was sitting on the couch, reading a paperback. He looked up when she walked in.

"Hey," she said awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

"Everything okay?" he asked, returning the book to his back pocket.

"Yeah, it was just Paris. She's freaking out about Jamie."

Jess nodded.

There was a long silence, and Rory nervously shifted her eyes away from his. They fell on his arm, and she noticed he'd pulled his sleeve back down over the tattoo. She folded her arms over her chest, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Jess. His face grew serious. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Okay," he accepted. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

Rory looked anywhere but at him. "We probably shouldn't. My mom's going to be home soon. She's at dinner with my grandparents, and she'll probably try to get out of there as soon as possible."

"Okay," he nodded, grabbing his jacket off the floor. He walked around the table towards her, gave her a quick kiss, and then headed for the door.

"Jess, wait," Rory called.

He stopped and turned to face her.

"I forgot something," she explained. "I'll be right back." Before he had time to say anything, she rushed out of the room, leaving him confused.

Less than a minute later, she reappeared, a wrapped package in her hands. When she reached him, she held it out.

As he took it, his eyes locked with hers. "What's this?"

"Your gift."

He looked at it in bewilderment. "I thought I already got my gift."

"That wasn't your real gift," Rory replied. "I wouldn't just get you that." When he still didn't move to open it, she encouraged him. "Go on and open it."

Looking down at the package, he carefully began to unwrap it. Slowly, the paper peeled away to reveal a medium-sized brochure. He flipped it over and read the title, "A Literary Map of Metropolitan Washington DC."

"When I was in the Folger, I just kept thinking how much more fun it would've been if you had been there too," Rory explained. "So this is for next time, when we go together. It shows you where all the big literary landmarks are, where authors lived and were buried, that kind of thing. I know it isn't much but…" she trailed off.

He looked at her. "I like it."

"Really?" she asked, wanting to believe him.

"Yeah," he nodded. She smiled, and he reached out and laid his hand almost imperceptibly on her hip. Then, he took a tentative step forward and kissed her. She lifted her hand and let it slide into his hair, holding him in place. When they finally needed a breath, he released her lips and rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she whispered back.

He stepped away, reluctantly letting his hand fall from her waist. "Your mom's home."

Puzzled, Rory glanced at the door and then back at him. "I didn't hear anything."

"Trust me," he answered, giving her a knowing smile and heading for the door.

As he walked out a second later, she heard him greet Lorelai, and a moment after that, her mother stepped inside.


	3. Spiraling Downward

**Chasing Aphrodite**

**Chapter 3: Spiraling Downward**

_**Disclaimer**: Once upon a time, there was a woman named Amy. She wrote a story, and she called it "Gilmore Girls." People loved her story. It was all they could talk about. They started clubs to celebrate her story. And Amy's story was so special that it went on for over six years. I am not Amy._

_**A/N**: First, I just want to make sure that everyone knows that I edited the first two chapters of this story. The 2nd chapter includes a brand-new scene. So, I would recommend rereading those chapters again, if you weren't aware of the changes. This chapter took a bit longer to write, but I think the time-spent was well worth it! I hope you agree! Thanks to **Elise**, **Leigh**, and **Julia** for their patience as I threw snippets of text their way and asked for help! Thanks also to **Ali** for the wicked banner. This chapter is dedicated to **Ali** and **Lydia** because NOGG and 22.8 Years inspired me to finally work on this again. And, of course, to my sister because, well, she rocks. She reads my story no matter how tired or busy she probably is. She gives it to me straight. And she likes me, regardless of whether I'm hyper or depressed. Thanks, enjoy, **review**. Becka _

"I was ambushed!" Lorelai declared, shrugging off her coat as she walked in the door and letting it pool on the ground beside the purse she'd just dropped. "I can't believe I didn't see it coming!"

Rory frowned. "What happened?"

"Emily Gilmore happened," Lorelai explained as she flopped dramatically onto the sofa. "She was Santa Anna, and I was the Alamo."

"Okay, no more Westerns with Gus," Rory ordered, joining her mother on the couch.

"Oh, they were in such a good mood too," Lorelai continued. "My mother even made a joke."

Rory's eyes widened. "Wow!"

"Oh, yeah, it was quite the show. She answered the door herself, and she _smiled_. If I didn't know better – and, believe me, I know better – I'd have thought she looked happy to see me."

"Maybe she was happy to see you," Rory offered.

"Yeah, happy like a spider spotting the poor, helpless fly caught in its web."

"Okay, enough metaphors. What happened?"

"She tricked me."

"Grandma _tricked_ you?" Rory asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, she plied me with alcohol and cheerfulness, and then, when I least suspected it, she sucker-punched me."

"How?"

Lorelai turned her eyes to her daughter. "She wants to have dinner tomorrow night."

"But I thought you had dinner tonight."

"Oh, no, there was no dinner tonight. Tonight was the pre-dinner floorshow."

"So we're having dinner tomorrow night? That's okay. We can handle that."

"At McCullough's," Lorelai supplied.

"Uh-oh."

"Oh, yes. Tomorrow night, we are having dinner at McCullough's. You, me, Richard and Emily Gilmore, and Gus."

"Okay," Rory hesitated before quickly reassuring her. "This isn't a big deal. Grandma and Grandpa already met Gus. They liked Gus. He liked them. It'll be fine."

"They're plotting something, Rory."

"They aren't plotting anything," Rory disagreed.

"You should've seen them. They were smiling and giggling. Trust me, they're plotting something."

"What could they be plotting?"

Lorelai frowned. "I don't know. I think my alert system is on the blink."

"You know what I think?" Rory asked.

Lorelai glanced at her. "You're wearing your serious face. I _hate_ that face."

"I think you don't want to accept that Grandma and Grandpa might actually like Gus."

"That's ridiculous," Lorelai dismissed.

"They're happy for you, and you don't trust it."

"I don't trust _them_," Lorelai rephrased.

"They're happy for you, and it's a good thing." Seeing her mother's doubtful expression, Rory added more forcefully, "It is." Then, for good measure, she finished cheerfully, "Tomorrow will be fun."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. Then, an idea dawning, she looked at her daughter again. "You're bringing Jess," she said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Rory squeaked.

Lorelai smiled. "You're bringing Jess."

Immediately, Rory started shaking her head. "No, no way!"

"Rory, you have to," Lorelai pleaded. "I need a defense until I get the sirens up and running again."

"He'll say no."

"He won't have a choice," Lorelai stated.

"Mom," Rory frowned.

Lorelai grabbed her arm and looked up at her pleadingly. "Please, Rory. They have a plan. You know it, and I know it."

"So your solution is to sacrifice Jess?"

"Who's sacrificing? I'm sure they'll just want you to be happy. They'll like him because you like him," Lorelai teased, throwing her earlier words back at her.

Rory folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the couch. "Fine," she muttered.

With a loud squeal, Lorelai pulled her daughter into a quick hug and then stood up.

"But only if Jess agrees to it," Rory called out, watching her mother as she headed to the stairs.

"Well, in that case, you do what you have to do," Lorelai smiled. "Mommy gives you permission. And, you know what? You were right; tomorrow is going to be fun," she finished before darting upstairs.

"And suddenly I'm the Alamo," Rory muttered under her breath.

-

Jess groaned loudly and shot his hand out from under the blanket, slamming it forcefully onto the alarm clock's snooze button. Then, pulling his fleece cocoon even tighter, he relaxed and tried to get his brain to go back to the dream he'd been having. Nine minutes later, he was just finally drifting off again when, of course, the alarm resumed its blaring.

He cursed under his breath and jerked his hand out again. When it fell down upon lacquered wood, he frowned and ran his fingers across the surface, searching for the source of the ear-piercing beeping. He found a pencil. His book. He nearly knocked over a glass of water, but there was no alarm clock.

Barely containing a growl of annoyance, he threw the blankets off his head and glared up at the person he knew was standing beside the bed. Well, squinted more than glared. But he assured himself that the scowl on his face effectively demonstrated any anger his eyes weren't conveying.

Before his eyes had time to fully adjust, he leaned forward and smacked the clock Luke held in his hands, cutting off the alarm mid-beep. Then, without another word, he yanked the blankets back over his head and burrowed deep into the mattress. A second later, the covers flew off, and he was exposed to the freezing cold apartment air.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, his eyes flying open and focusing on his uncle. Immediately, he saw the wide, self-satisfied grin on Luke's face. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. _Oh, crap!_

"What's that?" Luke asked, pointing at Jess's arm.

Jess didn't need to look to know exactly what Luke was talking about. He shot up out of bed and headed straight for the closet, pulling out the first long-sleeved shirt he could find.

"Tell me that isn't real," Luke ordered wearily.

"It isn't real," Jess deadpanned, glaring at him as he yanked the shirt on. Then he turned back to the closet to search for a pair of jeans.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Luke reconsidered the situation. He started to grin. "Who is it?" he asked, walking over to Jess.

Jess ignored him and quickly pulled on his pants. Grabbing a pair of shoes, he walked to the bed and sat down.

"Come on, Jess. Let me see it," Luke lightheartedly demanded, following after him. When he reached down to grab Jess's arm, Jess jerked it away and shot him a death glare.

"Touch me and die," he stated, causing Luke to chuckle.

"You know, I never really figured you for the tattoo type," Luke teased.

"Yeah, well, I never figured you for the nosy type," Jess retorted, tugging his shoelaces together.

Luke folded his arms over his chest and peered at his nephew. "Is it Liberace? It kinda looked like Liberace."

Annoyed, Jess looked up and met his eyes.

Luke held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not judging. Taylor loves Liberace."

"It's Shakespeare," Jess said flatly.

"Ah," Luke accepted.

Jess nodded, challenging him to say something more. When Luke remained silent, Jess stood up, grabbed his book from the table, and headed for the door.

"You're working in the diner today," Luke reminded him.

"Like I could forget," Jess muttered, slamming the door as he left.

Once he was gone, Luke shook his head and chuckled.

-

"Don't say anything," Rory ordered her mother as they approached the diner door.

"I'll be quiet as a mouse."

"I mean it, you'll only make things worse. Just… let me handle him."

"Squeak, squeak."

"Mom," Rory sighed.

"I promise, Rory. I won't say anything to Jess. Cross my heart," she vowed, tracing her finger in an "X" over the middle of her chest.

Rory gave her a doubtful look and pulled open the door.

"Squeak, squeak," Lorelai thanked her as she walked past her into the diner.

Rory narrowed her eyes and followed after her.

"Squeak?" Lorelai asked, pointing at a table.

"You are not funny."

"I'm a little funny," Lorelai corrected.

Rory shook her head. "Nope, not even a little. I'm getting coffee."

"Will you get me a slice of cheese too?" Lorelai asked as she sat down. "The big, mean cat stole mine."

Rory shot her a look and walked to the counter. Spotting Jess at the register, she smiled. He glanced over at her but didn't smile back. _Not a good start_, she sighed. She slid onto a stool and waited for him to finish with the customer.

A few seconds later, he appeared in front of her.

"Hey," she greeted, leaning over the counter to give him a quick kiss. When he barely reciprocated, she frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Luke saw it," he stated.

Looking at him in confusion, she moved back down to sit on the stool. "Saw what?"

Jess bent his arm in front of his chest and glanced down at it and then back up at her.

"Oh!" she smirked. "Sorry."

He was not amused.

"You're mad at me?"

He gave her a cold stare.

"You can't be mad about that!"

"I told you it was a bad idea," he reminded her.

"Jess, it's nothing. I'm sure Luke won't say anything."

"Right," Jess answered sarcastically.

"Okay, what can I do?" Rory asked.

Jess thought about it for a second and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Tell him you held me at gunpoint and forced it on me."

"Well, I practically did," Rory agreed. "That should be an easy story to sell."

"He thought it was Liberace," Jess whispered, his voice pained.

The corners of Rory's lips curled up. "So I guess it could've been worse," she teased.

"Fine, laugh now, but just remember you owe me."

"It's only fair," Rory shrugged.

He nodded. "All right then."

She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes. "Two coffees, please?" she asked, using her most pathetic-sounding voice.

He scanned her face for a second and then sighed. "Fine."

When she smiled gratefully, he couldn't help but lean forward and give her the kiss he'd denied her earlier. When he pulled away, her smile was even wider. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Yeah, you're forgiven," he begrudgingly conceded before turning to get the coffees.

When he turned back around and handed them over, she flashed him a wide smile and then hurried to the table where her mother was waiting.

"How'd it go?" Lorelai asked, snatching one of the coffee mugs.

"I can't ask him," Rory stated seriously.

"What do you mean? You have to ask him!"

"No, I can't."

Lorelai looked at her curiously. "Why not?"

"Because I did something, and now I owe him, and I can't exactly ask him for something else when I already owe him."

"Ooh, what'd you do?" Lorelai asked, her eyes brightening.

Rory shook her head. "I can't say," she answered before taking a sip of her coffee.

"C'mon, he knows you tell me everything! Spill!"

"If you actually want me to ask him to dinner tonight or, even more importantly, if you actually want him to say yes? You will drop this."

"Squeak," Lorelai answered.

"Thank you."

"So, is there any way we still have a chance here?" Lorelai asked.

Rory glanced over her shoulder at Jess, considering the options. Then, she turned back to her mother. "Maybe."

"Maybe is good."

Rory took another long sip of her coffee then stood up. "Wait here."

-

Jess walked into the storage room and looked suspiciously at his girlfriend. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Huh. That's interesting 'cuz when my girlfriend comes to the counter and whispers that I should meet her in the storage room, I kinda assume something's going on. Very covert, by the way."

"Thank you," Rory smiled, walking towards him. When she reached his side, she leaned up and gave him a kiss.

Running his fingers along her cheek, he returned the kiss for a moment before pulling away and searching her eyes. "Okay, really, Rory. What's going on?"

"I need a favor," she admitted.

He looked at her for a second before taking a step back. "What?"

"My grandparents sort of arranged this dinner tonight."

"No way!" he said immediately.

"Jess…"

"We just started dating, Rory."

She shifted uncomfortably. "I know that."

"I'm not going," he stated.

"But it's at McCullough's. Dinner in a public place is much safer than going to Friday night dinner at my grandparent's house," she argued. "And my mom will be there. And Gus. No one will even notice you."

"Thanks, that's very flattering."

"You're going to have to meet them eventually, you know."

"Later rather than sooner is fine by me."

"You're not even considering it," Rory complained irritably.

"No, I'm not," he agreed.

Rory fixed her eyes on the ground.

Jess let a long moment pass before he said her name. When she still didn't look up, he took a step forward and said it again. She met his eyes. Seeing her sad expression, he hesitated, not sure what to do. Then, he explained, "I just think it's a little early to test how much you like me."

"It's not a test," Rory responded.

"For you, maybe not. But they will _definitely_ be testing me."

"Then you'll pass," she said firmly.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Just come. Please."

"Does she know what I look like?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Rory replied, confused.

"Perfect. Find someone who vaguely resembles me. Take him. Just don't kiss him goodnight."

Rory smiled. "That's not going to work."

"Andy Warhol did it all the time."

"Please, Jess," Rory asked again. "It's one night. And then it'll be over. Just one night."

He tightened his jaw, hating the idea.

"Please," she repeated, taking a small step forward and kissing the corner of his mouth.

"You already owe me for the tattoo, you know."

"I know," she nodded, kissing the other corner.

"If I do this, you're going to owe me _big_."

She looked up into his eyes and nodded again. "I know."

With a small smirk, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. She smiled against his mouth, knowing she'd won. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and she leaned into him.

He placed another quick kiss on her lips and pulled away. "Okay, I'll make you a deal."

She grinned and bounced slightly. "Whatever it is, I agree."

He smirked. "You are _so_ going to regret saying that."

-

"Refill?" Luke asked, pulling Lorelai out of her thoughts.

She looked up and smiled at him before holding out her half-empty mug.

As he poured the coffee, he jerked his head in the direction of the storage room. "Any ideas what that's about?"

Lorelai glanced towards the room. "I'm not sure, but I think it involves heavy making-out."

Luke lowered the pot to his side, his eyes wide. "Should I do something?"

"No, it's okay," Lorelai assured him.

"I could go back there to get something. I think we're almost out of pickles. They'd never know I was checking up on them."

"Oh, they'd know," Lorelai grinned. "But thanks for the offer."

He nodded. "Sure."

Lorelai took a sip of her coffee, then, noticing Luke hadn't moved, she peered up at him. "Luke?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He looked at her gratefully and slid into the seat across from her, setting the coffee pot on the table. "Have you noticed anything strange about Rory lately?"

"Uh, no, not really," Lorelai replied, confused.

"No weird piercings or, I don't know," Luke continued. "Tattoos or anything?"

"Well, there are those matching tattoos we got in Tijuana, but I don't think those count."

"Lorelai, be serious," Luke stated, giving her a firm look.

Her face dropped. "Okay. No, Luke, _of course_ Rory doesn't have any tattoos. She's Rory."

"Right," Luke nodded.

"You do realize this is the strangest conversation we've ever had, right?"

"I find that hard to believe," Luke retorted.

"Okay, point taken. What's going on?"

Luke looked at her. "Jess has a tattoo," he whispered across the table.

"What? Where?" Lorelai stage-whispered back.

"On his arm."

Lorelai glanced furtively around the room before turning back to Luke. "Is it of Rory?" she questioned, leaning forward a little.

"No, it's not of Rory," Luke said quickly.

"Oh, good," she relaxed. "Because we've seen how that kind of thing turns out for celebrities. Look at Johnny Depp. Pamela Anderson. Ooh," she snapped her fingers. "Sean Penn! And now, with the recent Jolie/Thornton breakup, poor Angelina," she finished sadly.

"Who are those people?" Luke asked, looking bewildered.

Lorelai smiled sympathetically and patted his hand. "_People_ magazine, honey," she intoned. "You gotta read the _People_."

Luke stared at her like she was crazy.

"Forget it," Lorelai dismissed, pulling her hand away. "So what's the tattoo of?"

"He said Shakespeare, but I don't know. It really looked like Liberace."

Lorelai's eyes widened and lit up. "You're kidding?"

"I wish," Luke moaned.

"Jess has a tattoo that may or may not be of Liberace?"

Luke shrugged uncertainly. "If you ask me, it looked like Liberace."

"Wow! I don't know if I'm deserving of this gift. I must've been a saint in my last life," she observed with a bright smile.

"Don't say anything," Luke demanded.

"Uh, Luke, how can I not?" she asked, aghast. "The joke writes itself."

"It isn't real," he explained.

Her smile dropped. "Aw, seriously? That's not nearly as fun."

"Well, I apologize," he said half-heartedly.

"Oh, don't worry! There's still some fun to be had," she promised. "So, if it isn't real, what are you so worried about?"

"It's just, at first, I thought it was funny too," he admitted. "But then I got to thinking, and… nah," he dismissed, waving his hand in the air. "I'm probably overreacting."

"Uh, I'll say," Lorelai agreed. "Although… Liberace?" she repeated, stunned.

"It's just," Luke hedged, deep in thought. "You don't think it's the beginning of a downward spiral, do you?"

"Getting a fake Liberace tattoo?"

"Yeah, it's stupid," he decided.

"Luke, the tattoo is a joke. I promise you. Jess is doing fine."

Luke nodded and stood up. "You're right. It's nothing."

"Hey," Lorelai added. "You've done a really good job with him. I know I don't tell you that often, but he's _almost_ bearable now, thanks to you."

"He's a good kid," Luke agreed.

"It's sweet of you to be concerned."

Luke shrugged. "It's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

"Yes, it is one of the parental prerogatives. That, and public embarrassment. You've definitely done your job today, my friend."

"Speaking of which…"

"Customers are waiting for their food," Lorelai finished.

Luke nodded and, grabbing the pot, started to walk away. He got about two feet before he hesitated and turned around. "I'll just leave this with you," he said, setting the pot back down.

Lorelai looked at the pot and grinned. "If I didn't know better, Mr. Danes, I'd think you're warming up to me a little."

"It's been years. It was bound to happen," he grumbled before heading back to the counter.

Lorelai watched him go. Then, under her breath, she whispered, "Yeah, it was bound to happen."

-

Glancing in the mirror one last time, Rory took a deep breath.

"You look amazing," Lorelai commented from the doorway. Rory lifted her eyes and met her mother's gaze in the reflection.

"Thanks," she smiled, turning to face her. "Wow, and you look _really_ beautiful."

"Oh, this old thing?" Lorelai downplayed as she walked in front of the mirror. She shifted around and checked herself from a different angle, smoothing her hands along the lines of her form-fitting, vintage dress. "It does look pretty good, huh?" she grinned.

"Definitely," Rory nodded.

"So, when is Jess get—," Lorelai began, but her words were cut off by the sound of the doorbell. "Speak of the devil. Possibly, literally."

"Be nice," Rory reprimanded, brushing past her to get the door. "He's doing this for you, you know," she called over her shoulder.

Lorelai frowned and trailed after her. "Please, he's doing it for the nookie," she said matter-of-factly.

Rory's mouth fell open, and she shot her mother a look. Then, trying to ignore the deep blush rising in her cheeks, she pulled the door open to reveal Jess. He looked… incredible.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hi," she responded shyly, taking in his crisply pressed dress pants, button-down shirt, and suit jacket. "You look…"

"Blame Luke," Jess said quickly.

She smiled and stepped forward, giving him a long kiss.

"Or thank Luke, whichever," he amended.

Rory giggled and moved aside to let him in.

As he walked through the door, Lorelai noticed the stack of books he held in his hands. "Expecting a long night, huh?" she joked.

"Actually, these are for Rory," he clarified, holding them out to his girlfriend.

She took them and shuffled through the titles. "_The Sun Also Rises_," she read, her nose wrinkling. "_A Farewell to Arms_. _The Old Man and the Sea._" She looked up. "I already have this one."

"And now you can't claim you couldn't find it," Jess remarked.

She sighed and looked back down. "_For Whom the Bell Tolls. The Night in Question._ _The Night in Question_?" she repeated, meeting his eyes again.

"Tobias Wolff," Jess stated.

Rory nodded. "I know."

"He's been compared to Hemingway. For good reason," he explained.

Rory frowned. "This is inhumane, you know."

"Ah, but a deal is a deal," Jess smirked.

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Ohhh, so he did it for the _bookie_," she concluded, nodding her head knowingly.

Rory turned to her mother. "Aren't you supposed to be meeting Gus at the restaurant?"

"Fine, fine," Lorelai moaned, grabbing her purse off the end-table. Smoothing back Rory's hair, she gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and headed for the door. "Let the fun begin," she said unenthusiastically before taking her coat off its hook and walking outside.

As soon as she was gone, Rory turned back to Jess. "I should put these in my room," she stated, shifting the books in her arms.

He nodded. "Okay."

While she left to do that, he walked further into the living room and glanced around. He was peering at the pictures on the mantel, looking at them with new eyes, when she appeared beside him.

"You were a cute kid," he observed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

She smiled, remembering the pictures she saw when she visited his apartment in New York. "So were you."

"Oh yeah?" he smirked.

She scrunched her face in concentration and let her eyes wander to his hair. "The hair hasn't changed at all," she teased.

"I did manage to dodge the bowl-cut phase," he agreed. "Guess I was lucky."

She smiled and took a step forward. "I like your hair."

He studied her for a moment before taking her face in his hands and placing a soft kiss on her lips. Then, he slowly shifted his hands down to rest on her waist, gliding across cool satin.

"This is nice," he decided, taking in the pale blue dress she was wearing.

She smiled mischievously. "Wanna borrow it sometime?"

"Ha-ha," he responded, drawing her closer and kissing her again.

He felt her shift a little in his arms, so he pulled away to meet her eyes.

"We should go," she said softly.

"Right," he nodded. "The firing squad awaits."

"I promise it won't be that bad," she assured him, freeing herself from his arms to grab her jacket.

"Sure, it won't," he mumbled before following after her.

-

McCullough's was bustling with activity when Lorelai arrived. Spotting the coat attendant, she hurried over.

"Hey Tarrah," she greeted as she handed over her jacket.

The tall, slender blonde smiled. "Last time I saw him, he was in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Lorelai said gratefully.

"No problem. Big night tonight, huh?"

"Be on the lookout for flying knives," Lorelai warned.

Tarrah chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Oh, and I guarantee my mother and father will be rude to you. He's tall with a bowtie. She's a petite redhead. Don't let them get to you."

"I'm sure it'll be nothing I haven't heard before."

"Don't bet on it," Lorelai cautioned.

"Plus, August compensates us for any pain and suffering."

"As he should," Lorelai agreed, stepping aside for a couple who'd just arrived. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Good luck," Tarrah offered sympathetically.

Lorelai gave her a nervous smile and started towards the restaurant. Then, reconsidering, she stopped and turned back around. "Hey, one more thing… if a teenage boy – about this tall," she described, holding her hand in the air, "dark hair, probably brooding – tries to escape, don't let him."

"I'll do my best," Tarrah vowed.

Lorelai nodded and continued on into the restaurant.

-

"Lamb reporting for slaughter," she quipped as she walked into the kitchen.

Gus turned around and smiled. "Sorry, we're already fully stocked," he replied, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You look _beautiful_," he whispered in her ear before pulling away.

She smiled and glanced at the kitchen staff. "Hi, guys," she waved.

They all nodded and smiled at her.

"They hate me," she said out of the corner of her mouth.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I've sufficiently prepared them, I promise. They're excited for the challenge."

"Right," she accepted doubtfully.

"We should probably go out. We don't want to keep your parents waiting."

"No, we definitely wouldn't want that," Lorelai sarcastically agreed. "Bye, guys!" she called out. The staff all nodded and smiled again. "Oh, they hate me," she groaned, letting Gus lead her out of the room.

As they walked through the small and very empty adjoining buffer room, she stopped in her tracks. Gus looked down at her curiously, and she took the opportunity to pull him into a fierce kiss. Without hesitation, he enfolded her in his arms. A second later, she pulled away.

"Wow," he uttered.

"Just in case it's the last time," Lorelai explained.

He smiled and took her hand. "Don't be ridiculous."

-

As soon as they entered the seating area, they spotted Richard and Emily being led in by the maitre d'. Immediately, Gus smiled and pulled a reluctant Lorelai in their direction.

"Mr. Gilmore," he greeted, shaking Richard's hand.

"Now, now, none of that," Richard dismissed. "Call me Richard."

Gus nodded and took Emily's hand. "Mrs. Gilmore," he said charmingly, kissing the back of her hand.

"August," she replied, a fake smile plastered across her face.

"Welcome to McCullough's," he stated. "I'll show you to our table. Thanks, Branson," he added, allowing the maitre d' to leave. Taking Lorelai's hand again, Gus led them to a well-lit but secluded corner table.

He pulled out a chair for Emily, and she gave him a prim smile before sitting down. As he moved to do the same for Lorelai, Emily glanced around the restaurant. Sitting down, Lorelai looked over at her mother just in time to witness the brief millisecond when her fake smile faltered. Uncertainly, she looked in the direction of Emily's gaze and saw Rory and Jess, walking hand-in-hand behind the maitre d'.

Emily didn't move. "Who is that, Lorelai?" she hissed under her breath.

"Oh, that's my daughter, Rory. Did I forget to introduce you two?"

Emily gave her a look of exasperation.

"It's Jess," Lorelai said, trying to sound nonchalant. "He's Rory's boyfriend."

Emily's mouth fell open slightly. "He's _what_?"

"Grandma," Rory greeted, drawing Emily's attention. She leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Releasing Jess's hand, she gave Richard a quick hug. Then, just as fast, she was back beside Jess, entwining her fingers with his and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "This is Jess," she finished.

Both Emily and Richard turned their eyes to the dark-haired boy.

"Jess who?" Emily asked, scanning him up and down.

Rory hesitated.

"Jess Mariano," Lorelai supplied. "Luke's nephew. You remember."

Emily's body stiffened. "The boy who outbid Dean?"

"Among other things," Lorelai replied.

"What is he doing here?" Emily asked.

"He's Rory's boyfriend, Mom."

Rory glanced at Jess and saw his jaw tighten.

"Since when?" Emily asked.

"Since around Sookie's wedding, I guess," Lorelai shrugged.

Emily's mouth set. "No one informed me."

"Uh, well…" Lorelai began, looking at Rory for help.

"I, um, I," Rory faltered. Then, feeling Jess slip his hand from hers, she shot him a desperate look. His face was blank. Her heart thumped. "There wasn't time, Grandma," she recovered. "I went to DC, and you were at Martha's Vineyard."

"I see. Well, I didn't realize all modes of communication ceased to exist this summer. Next time, I'll request a passenger pigeon," Emily replied, turning back to the table and opening her menu.

Lorelai looked apologetically at Rory and then turned her eyes helplessly to Gus.

"Here comes the waiter," he said abruptly, gesturing at one of the staff.

The waiter hurried over, and Rory moved to sit down. Hesitantly, Jess walked over to sit between her and Richard. As he pulled out his chair, Richard stood up and extended his hand. "Richard Gilmore," he greeted. "It's nice to meet you, Jess."

Jess looked up at Rory's grandfather, surprised to see sincerity on his face. Shifting awkwardly, he reached out and shook his hand. "Mr. Gilmore."

Richard nodded and sat back down. "Now, Emily," he began. "What looks good?"

-

Jess skimmed his eyes over the plates of nearby diners. He should've known what to expect after hearing the dress code. Most of the plates held food the size of a fist, surrounded by leafy garnishes and drizzled with decorative sauces and syrups. He sighed and turned back to the menu.

Noting his expression, Rory leaned over and whispered, "Go with the shepherd's pie."

He didn't look up. "I can handle it," he said tersely.

Rory watched him for a second, surprised at his reaction, then turned back to her menu.

"Soda bread?" Gus offered, sensing their tension.

Jess glanced up and snagged a piece from the basket Gus held out. "Thanks."

"No problem. Rory?"

"Uh, no thanks," Rory replied quietly, setting her menu on the table. "I'm fine."

Gus nodded and lowered the basket. Then, seeing that everyone but Jess had closed their menus, he waved a waiter over. "Is everyone ready to order?" he asked, eyeing Jess.

Giving up, Jess shrugged and set his menu on the table as well.

Gus smiled up at the waiter. "We appear to be ready, Marshall. Emily, why don't you go first?"

Emily fixed her eyes on the waiter. "How is the lamb stew?" she inquired.

"Very good, ma'am," Marshall replied.

"They pay you to say that," she remarked.

"Yes, they do, ma'am," Marshall agreed good-naturedly. "But it truly is excellent."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "What about the corned beef?"

"Also excellent," Marshall smiled.

"And I suppose the confit of duck is _also_ excellent?"

"Actually," he replied, venturing a quick glance at Gus. "The side of sauté livers isn't really my taste."

Emily fought back a small smile. "Very well. I'll have the lamb stew."

"Excellent choice, ma'am," Marshall nodded. "And you, sir?" he asked, turning to Richard.

After everyone else had placed their orders, he turned to Jess. "And, last but not least, what would you like, sir?"

Jess shifted, turning his eyes to the table in mild frustration. Then, he looked back up at the waiter, "Shepherd's pie," he stated.

"Another fine choice," Marshall smiled. "Your food should be out very soon," he concluded, heading for the kitchen.

Jess didn't need to look. He knew Rory was smirking.

-

Once the food arrived, the conversation had settled into a nice, if muted, rhythm. Lifting their forks, they all settled in and began to eat.

Richard took a bite of his corned beef and looked at Gus approvingly. "This is wonderful, August," he praised. "What made you decide to open a restaurant?"

"Well," Gus began. "I was originally a civil engineer."

"So you're the mastermind behind that lethal intersection at 10th and 17th!" Lorelai exclaimed jokingly.

"Goodness, Lorelai, you act like you're hearing this for the first time," Emily commented.

"Maybe I am," Lorelai kidded.

"I can't say that would surprise me," Emily mumbled as she took a sip of her wine.

"Anyway," Gus cut in. "It wasn't long before I grew bored with it and started brainstorming other things to do with my time. My father's always been very proud of our Irish heritage, and he remarked one day on the lack of good Irish restaurants. I saw his point, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Restaurants are a risky venture," Richard pointed out.

"Well, I've always been a bit of a risk-taker, and so far, they've all seemed to pay off."

Richard nodded, impressed. "We should talk business sometime. I have a feeling you could teach me a few things."

"Oh, I doubt that," Gus dismissed. "But I'd love to pick your brain."

"We'll arrange something," Richard decided.

"How's the stew, Emily?" Gus asked, turning his attention to her. "We're always looking for ways to improve it."

"Actually, it's very good," she begrudgingly admitted.

Gus smiled widely. "Glad to hear it."

"You're very young to be so successful," Emily observed.

"Oh, no. Just good genes. I'm thirty-nine."

"And still unmarried?" Emily pried, ignoring Lorelai's look.

Gus nodded, not minding the interrogation. "And still unmarried."

"Not marriage material?"

"On the contrary," Gus replied. "I love the idea of marriage. That's why I haven't done it yet. Just waiting for the right person."

"I see," Emily accepted, smiling against the edge of the glass she'd raised to her lips.

Almost unnoticeably, the waiter arrived and removed some plates. When he departed again, Emily turned back to her daughter's boyfriend. "Your wait-staff is excellent."

"Thank you. I'll be sure to tell them that," Gus answered.

"It's hard to find good help these days. I'm sure Lorelai's mentioned my staff."

"Once or twice," Gus said, looking at Lorelai with amused eyes.

"Yes, well, perhaps I'll have to steal one of yours," Emily teased.

Amazed at what she was witnessing, Lorelai sat in stunned silence.

"Well, now that we know a little about August, what about you, Jess?" Emily asked, turning her eyes to him.

Jess lifted his eyes to the eldest Gilmore. He'd seen enough disapproval to recognize it immediately, no matter how hard someone was trying to hide it. He lowered his fork. "What do you want to know?"

"Where are you from?" she asked, her tone neutral.

"New York," he replied, trying to keep his answers as brief as possible.

"New York is a fine state."

"It's all right," he shrugged.

"And now you live with Luke?" she continued.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Above the diner?"

"Yes."

"And do you work in the diner?"

"Yes."

Irritated by his one-word responses, Emily pursed her lips. "Is that where you got the money to buy Rory's picnic basket?"

Jess smirked. _And here we go_. "Yeah, I stole it from the till," he replied, his sarcastic tone belying the truth of the statement.

"That's a joke, Grandma," Rory said quickly, shooting Jess a look.

"Is it?" Emily asked, fixing her eyes on Jess. "Lorelai seems to think you're trouble."

"Mom!"

"Grandma!"

"You said it yourself, Lorelai. What do you think, Jess? Are you trouble?"

"I think that's her opinion."

"You have parents, I assume?" Emily asked.

"I didn't just fall out of the sky."

"But you live with your uncle?"

Jess's expression turned cold.

"Emily, would you like some more wine?" Richard interrupted.

"Oh, I think she's had plenty of wine, Dad."

"Don't make light of this, Lorelai! This boy is dating your daughter."

"Thanks for the update, Mom."

"Why doesn't he live with his parents?"

"That's a long story best told at another time," Lorelai replied.

"Yes, Emily," Richard agreed, his voice firm. "We can hear it some other time."

"I'd like to hear it now," Emily stated.

Jess shook his head and set his napkin on the table.

Emily persisted. "There must be a reason you live with your uncle instead of your parents. Children don't just get shipped off to other relatives without a reason."

Jess clenched his teeth and took a quick glance at Rory. And that's when he saw her expression. He'd been punched quite a few times in his life but never quite as hard as at that moment.

"Mom, could we please talk about something else?" Lorelai asked. "Look!" she continued. "Here's Gus! Interrogate Gus!"

"Okay, fine," Emily replied, turning to face Lorelai's boyfriend. "Now that you mention it, there is something I've been wondering."

"What's that?" Gus asked cordially.

"Does it bother you at all to know my daughter is in love with another man?"

Lorelai's mouth fell open in shock, and her head started spinning. Through the muddle of her mind, she grasped onto the first thing she could. Pointing an accusatory finger at Jess, she blurted, "He has a Liberace tattoo!"

A silence fell over the table.

Then, in the next moment, Jess pushed his chair from the table and walked out of the room.

-

Rory hurried out of the dining area and frantically searched the lobby. Spotting Jess by the coat-room, she rushed over.

"Just give me my damn coat," he ordered.

"I can't find it," Tarrah lied, pretending to search through the rows of hanging coats.

Jess jerked his head irritably. "Excellent staff, my a—," he began but cut himself off when he saw Rory coming towards him. "Great," he muttered. "Forget it." And, with that, he bolted for the door. He was outside and just down the steps when she caught up to him.

"Jess," she pleaded. "Just wait for a minute."

He stopped and turned to face her. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," he retorted before heading in the direction of Luke's truck.

"Wait," she said again, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"_What_?" he demanded.

"I know that didn't go well," she began.

He chuckled and shook his head. "You think?"

"It was a bad idea," she admitted.

"Tripling with your mother and grandparents on our first date?" he retorted. "Nah, _great_ idea, Rory."

"Okay, but it wasn't my idea."

"That's kinda the point."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Nothing," he waved her off.

"Look, it's not as bad as you think. My mom was just trying to break the tension," she tried to explain. "And my grandmother doesn't like anyone at first."

He looked at her in disbelief. "I don't care what they think," he said tightly, gesturing at the restaurant.

"Okay," Rory hesitantly accepted. "Then why are you so mad?"

"Because I care what _you_ think," he nearly yelled, pointing a finger at her.

Rory's heart stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"Why didn't you tell your grandparents about us?"

"I don't know," Rory answered, grasping for an explanation. "I guess it just… didn't come up."

"It didn't come up?" he repeated with a bitter chuckle.

"Things with my grandmother … they're complicated," Rory clarified.

"Right," Jess nodded, drawing his lips together in a tight line.

"Why would I invite you here if I cared about that?" she asked, frustrated.

"Gee, I don't know, Rory," he threw back at her. "You tell me. Why _did_ you invite me here?"

"Because," she said hesitantly but honestly. "I wanted them to meet you."

"But you didn't want them to know the truth."

Rory searched his eyes. "What truth?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw your look in there," he accused, gesturing at the restaurant again. "When she asked me about living with Luke."

"What look?" Rory demanded, looking at him wide-eyed.

"Don't! Don't do that!"

"Do what?" she asked, fighting back tears. "All I know is what I was thinking, and I was thinking that I – I didn't know why you live with Luke. I _don't_. And… I wish I did. I wish that you would tell me things."

"We've been dating for a day and a half."

"No," she corrected, shaking her head. "We've been dating all summer. We talked almost every day, and you never said anything about – about any of that."

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me!" she exclaimed.

"Don't you think I know that?" he fiercely replied, stepping forward and jerking his finger at the ground. "You want to know what you're getting yourself into. _That_ was the look."

She vehemently shook her head. "That isn't true," she defended, regaining her composure. "You just don't want to – you don't want to talk about it because you're scared of letting someone in. You'd rather just kiss me and hope I forget," she accused.

His eyes widened. "What are you _talking_ about?"

This was getting out of control. She needed to think for a second. "I just," she said hesitantly, choosing her words carefully. "I think we were just moving too fast. This is all happening too… fast."

"Are you serious?" he asked defensively. "Gee, Rory, I'm sorry I'm not a cold fish like _Dean_, but all we did was kiss."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," she said desperately, focusing her frustrated eyes on him. "I mean everything. We've been acting like we're just this… normal couple, but we're not. We're _not_. There are things that have happened between us that we should've discussed." Her voice got quiet. "We don't even really know each other."

"Yeah," Jess fumed. "That is becoming _very_ clear."

"I think we just thought that if we ignored it, it would go away, but… it won't," she explained. Then, seeing hurt flash in his eyes, she quickly clarified herself. "Jess, it doesn't mean that I'm second-guessing this – us," she assured him taking a step forward.

He stepped back.

She stopped mid-movement and searched his eyes. Then, she watched as he turned and left.

-

In the restaurant, Lorelai sat mutely, processing what had just happened. She felt Gus rest his hand gently on hers.

"Lorelai?" he asked with concern.

She slowly turned her eyes to him. "I'm sorry. That was just," she began before stopping herself and looking at her mother coldly. "I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Those are questions that need to be asked, Lorelai. You know that."

"You have no idea what's going on with Jess," Lorelai replied quickly. "His parents could be sick or dead or a _thousand_ other things. Did you even consider that?"

"Are his parents sick or dead?" Emily asked.

"Rory deserves better than that," Lorelai said, dodging the question. "But you always do that, don't you? You just _always_ do that. You meet people and judge them in two seconds. Have you _ever_ in your whole life gotten to know someone before deciding they suck?" she asked.

"I don't think that boy _sucks_," Emily replied, her disdain for the slang term obvious.

"Wow, I'd hate to see how you treat someone you _do_ dislike then," Lorelai shot back. "Although I'm pretty sure there must be poisoned apples involved."

"Everything's a joke with you, isn't it?"

"No, not everything, Mom. Watching you hurt Rory is not a joke. Watching you make a scene in Gus's restaurant is not a joke. And listening to you butt in like you know the first thing about any part of our lives is not a joke."

"And whose fault is that exactly?" Emily asked indignantly.

Lorelai hesitated, confused. "What?"

"Why is it that I don't know anything about your lives? Could it possibly be because you don't let me? Is that even the _slightest_ possibility? I don't dislike Jess, Lorelai. What I dislike is the way you seem determined to turn my granddaughter against me," she explained, gesturing at Rory's empty chair. "I've accepted that you don't tell me things. That I'm always the last to know when something happens in your life. But I will not and I _do not_ accept being shut out from Rory's. I am her grandmother, and I would like to know when important things happen to her."

"So you can make her feel bad about them? Sure, definitely, Mom. That puts you at the top of our call list."

A silence fell across the table. Then Emily shifted haughtily and looked at her daughter. "Do you know what I think, Lorelai?" she asked before immediately continuing. "I think, deep down, you're happy I asked those questions because you're worried about her relationship with Jess. That isn't what upset you. You're upset because you just realized that, for once, despite all of your best efforts, your mother figured out something before you did."

"And what's that?" Lorelai retorted.

"I think that's for you and August to discuss. Come on, Richard," she said firmly before rising from the table and leaving the room.

With a curt good-bye, Richard followed after her.

-

"I am so sorry," Lorelai apologized. She rested her head in her hands and, massaging her temples, tried to ignore the nearby diners who were undoubtedly peering over at them with curiosity.

Gus reached out and gently traced soothing circles on her back.

She peered up at him. "There are not enough words or enough languages to express how sorry I am."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You should go find Rory."

"But I nee—"

"We'll figure all of this out tomorrow," he reassured her.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm sure."

Lorelai gave him a small smile and stood up. Then, taking a quick step towards him, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his. "Good-night."

"Good-night," he returned warmly.

Grabbing her purse, she headed out of the dining area. When she reached the lobby, Tarrah spotted her and held out three coats. Lorelai smiled weakly and walked over, taking them from her hand.

"I tried to stop him," Tarrah apologized.

"You couldn't have stopped him," Lorelai promised her.

Tarrah nodded, and, after wishing her good-night, Lorelai walked outside.

-

As she neared the jeep, Lorelai spotted Rory in the passenger seat, furiously wiping her hand across her cheek. She sighed and pulled open the door.

"Hey," she greeted, climbing in.

Rory didn't reply.

"It's freezing out here. You should've come back inside."

"I'm fine," Rory muttered.

"Put this on," Lorelai gently ordered, holding out Rory's jacket. When Rory didn't take it, she sighed. "It won't look good for me if my daughter freezes to death in a sleeveless dress," she joked. "I'm pretty sure they'd lock me up for that one." Still getting no response, she said resignedly, "Come on, Rory."

Not meeting her mother's eyes, Rory took the jacket and slipped it on, then fastened her seatbelt.

"I got Jess's too," Lorelai told her, tucking it behind the jeep's seats.

Rory glanced at it and then swiped at the new tear that ran down her cheek.

Lorelai reached out and tucked a strand of her daughter's hair back. "I'm so sorry."

Folding her arms over her chest, Rory stared straight out the window.

"Obviously, you're mad at me. With good reason. But you know I did not mean for any of that to happen."

"I'd really just like to go home," Rory said tonelessly.

"Okay," Lorelai nodded. She stuck the key in the ignition but stopped short of twisting the engine on. She turned to face her daughter again. "Can I just get an idea of how bad this is?" she asked. "I need to know what I'm working with here."

Rory turned her eyes to look out the passenger window.

"Are we talking a 1 on the Richter scale? I just let Brad Pitt run away with our money, which is bad but excusable because, well, he's Brad Pitt."

She got no reaction.

"Okay, what about a 5? I'm Cher, and I've moved you from place to place because I'm… flighty, and now I've just ruined yet another thing, and you'd really just like to call me the town slut and be done with me? However, I'm with Bob Hoskins, which you eventually will decide is punishment enough?"

Annoyed, Rory shifted a little but kept looking out the window.

"Hmmm… all right, so we're thinking a 9? You're Meryl Streep, and you really just want to blow a giant hole through my stomach with a shotgun?"

At last, Rory glared at her.

Lorelai processed that. Then, with a small nod, she turned her eyes to the steering wheel and started the jeep. "Nine, it is," she accepted as they pulled away.


	4. The Night in Question

**Chasing Aphrodite**

**Chapter 4: The Night in Question**

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gilmore Girls. It belongs to Amy Sherman- and Daniel Palladino, the WB, and its affiliates, etc, etc. I also don't own "The Night in Question" by Tobias Wolff. Any portions borrowed from it were used with the utmost respect and admiration for the author. In fact, on the chance-in-hell he's reading this: Tobias, I'd love to sit in on one of your classes!_

_**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who helped me as this chapter progressed, including **Elise**, **Julia, Leigh, **and **Arianna**. This chapter is dedicated to **Sarah **'cuz I love her and to **Elise** 'cuz I really wanna be her when I grow up. (E, you're creating a monster…). Enjoy, everyone, and please, please review. Thanks. -Becka_

Rory took off her coat and hung it on the hook beside the door, then immediately headed for her room. She was almost past the couch when her mother hurried through the door.

"Rory," Lorelai sighed, watching her daughter's retreating back. She opened her mouth to say something else but quickly closed it, knowing she wasn't going to fix this tonight. When she heard Rory's bedroom door click shut, she frowned and removed her coat.

Inside her room, Rory kicked off her shoes. One of them crashed against her wall, but she didn't flinch. She moved to her dresser and yanked the drawers open, searching for her favorite pajamas. Not finding them, she felt irrational tears of frustration start to burn the backs of her eyes. She dumped the clothes on the floor and plopped down beside them, rooting through the pile. They weren't there. She wiped angrily at her eyes.

There was a soft knock on her door, and, on instinct, she glanced in its direction. It inched open a little, and she saw her mother's hand sneak through the small opening, the missing pajamas dangling from her fingers. Rory glared at them, refusing to move.

Lorelai didn't say anything or come further into the room. She just continued to hold out her hand, waiting for Rory to give in and take them.

After a long moment, Rory stood up and reluctantly took the pajamas from her mother's hand. "Thank you," she mumbled.

On the other side of the door, Lorelai smiled. "You're welcome," she returned quietly before shutting the door again and leaving her daughter in peace.

Rory watched the closed door helplessly for a few seconds before slowly changing into her pajamas and crawling into bed. She settled her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. They opened again. She wasn't tired. She was too angry and frustrated and confused to sleep. Irritated, she yanked herself into a sitting position and leaned against her headboard, arms folded over her chest like a petulant child. Her eyes wandered aimlessly around the room and soon fell on the stack of books she'd put on her desk earlier that evening. Jess's books. She climbed out of bed and walked over to them. Flipping through the stack, she felt herself growing angrier. He _knew_ she hated Hemingway, and yet he insisted on forcing her to read them, using any means necessary. Hemingway, Hemingway, and more Hemingway, she thought bitterly. Then she uncovered the book on the bottom. _The Night in Question_. Tobias Wolff. She gave it a long look before picking it up and flipping through the pages. Sure enough, he'd written notes in the margins. She ran her fingers over his words, wondering how he managed to write so small. Book in hand, she walked to her bed and settled herself under the blankets again. She turned to the first page and started to read.

_-_

"C'mon, Jess, hand it over," the ash-blonde ordered, angling for the bottle he held just out of reach.

He smirked and shook his head. "Nope, I think you've had enough, young lady."

"You're an asshole," she stated. "Give me the bottle."

"It's my last one."

"We can get more later," she bargained. "It's not the last beer on earth."

"Ah, but it could be."

"Only if we were in hell," she responded. "And we are not in hell."

"Not yet," Jess agreed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and yanked the bottle out of his hand. "Don't get serious on me," she ordered before taking a long drink.

He watched her, letting his eyes trace over the lines of her face. Glancing at him, she held the beer back out. He took it, his eyes meeting hers. They were green; he'd never noticed that before. He blinked and raised the bottle to his lips, letting swallow after swallow etch a jagged path down his throat.

"Don't drink it all, you ass!" she exclaimed, smacking his arm. The bottle jerked away from his lips. She grabbed it back and shook it. "Nice. Really nice," she complained. "I liked this beer."

"That's because I'm not cheap like Wade," Jess intoned.

"True," she nodded. "Very true. You steal only the best, Jess Mariano. I'll give you that." She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes and giggled. "Not even denying it?" she asked, shoving him again. "I knew you fucking stole it."

"You think I can afford that shit?" he asked.

She giggled again and threw the bottle on the floor before settling back against the couch. Jess moved to mimic her position, and they silently sat side-by-side for a while, letting the buzz take over. After a long moment, she sighed and looked at him. "You'll be able to afford that shit someday."

He turned his eyes to her. "What?"

"I was just thinking about it – about you, and I had this vision. You're gonna be somebody someday." She patted his leg. "I have high hopes for you."

He scoffed under his breath and faced forward again. "I knew I should've cut you off."

"What does that mean?"

"You're hallucinating," Jess replied, "which means in about three hours, you'll be throwing up." He rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "I'm too tired to hold your hair back."

"Like you would," she snorted.

He peered over at her. "Somebody'd have to, and you can sure as hell bet Wade won't go near you."

"You're so charming," she said sarcastically.

"I'm just stating facts."

"Well, I can hold my own hair back, thank you," she said, throwing the long strands behind her shoulders. "And I'm hardly drunk at all."

He closed his eyes again. "If you say so."

"I do say so," she repeated insolently.

"Okay then," he mumbled sleepily. He was just drifting off a little when she spoke again.

"Hey Jess?"

"What?" he muttered.

"Look at me."

Annoyed, he hesitated, and then he slowly opened his eyes and glanced over at her. She didn't say anything, just stared at him. "What?" he asked again.

Without a word, she scooted closer and placed her lips on his. His body tightened in surprise for a second, and she pulled away. He watched her, not daring to move.

"I don't know why I just did that," she admitted.

He nodded slowly and started to open his mouth to respond when she leaned in again, kissing him with more force this time. She took advantage of his parted lips and let her tongue dive between them. Then, lifting her hands to cradle his face, she repositioned herself on his lap, her bent legs on either side of his.

Jess let his hands move to her waist, holding her in place.

_-_

Rory turned the page and smiled. She'd been reading for a while now, and she had to admit it – she liked this book. But it wasn't even so much the book; it was what Jess had written. It was seeing the stories through his eyes. Like the first story… it wasn't long, just a short tale about an obituary writer who gets fired for writing a notice for someone who isn't dead, a confusion created by the undead man himself. It was an interesting story, but what was more interesting was what Jess had written beside the question: "_What do you pride yourself on?_"

_A lack of pride_.

She'd giggled at the four words. So simply put and perfectly ironic. And yet, at the same time, she knew he'd meant more by them. She'd wished she had him there to interrogate. Instead, she'd sighed sadly and continued on.

She'd seen him in a character in the second story: Ryan, the mouthy member of an army unit. Given Jess's tendency towards silent observation, she found it strange that she saw so much of him in a character that talked and talked. But, she decided, it was the way Ryan constantly pushed authority figures, forcing the lieutenant to admit his weakness, forcing him to see his folly.

"_He's such an asshole," Ryan said. "Somebody's got to brief him on that, because he just doesn't get the picture. He doesn't have any hard intelligence of what an asshole he is. Somebody around here's got to take responsibility._"

Beside that, Jess had written _Amen_.

He didn't write anything on the pages of the next story. Not a word. It was about a boy who spent a weekend skiing with his fun-loving but irresponsible father. She read it twice, and the second time, she noticed a slight pencil mark beside a line. "_Your mother will never forgive me for this,_" the father said to the son. Rory felt a wave of sadness rush over her, but she kept reading.

"_She won't forgive me for this," he said. "Do you understand? Never." _

"_I guess," I said, but no guesswork was required; she wouldn't forgive him._

Rory remembered looking at the photo albums with Liz – the absence of any pictures of Jess's father. She looked at his small pencil mark, the only indication he'd read the story. She understood.

_-_

She tasted like beer and cigarettes. Jess couldn't get enough. His fingers tightened, balling the hem of her tank top a little, and then released. He let them trail underneath the cotton, encountering soft skin. It must've tickled because she giggled and shifted on his lap. He gasped quietly, and she froze, meeting his eyes. Then, with a sly smile, she did it again, and again, and again.

They didn't notice as time slipped away. They didn't hear the footsteps outside the door. They didn't hear the key as it slipped into the lock, and, moments later, they didn't hear it clank against the kitchen counter. It was only when he spoke his girlfriend's name that reality contracted once and then widened around them.

Jess flipped his best friend's girlfriend off his lap. She landed with a dull thud on the cushion beside him, her shirt crumpled where his fingers had dug in.

"Jess?" Wade questioned, his voice pained and disbelieving.

"Shit," Jess muttered. He couldn't think of a different word. It just kept repeating itself in his head over and over. _Shit. Shit. Shit. _Beside him, he felt her stand up and hurry over to her boyfriend.

"Wade," she pleaded, reaching out.

He jerked away. "Don't fucking touch me, _Terri_," he ordered. Her name sounded like a curse word as it sliced through the air. She took a step back, and his eyes turned back to Jess.

"Jess," he said again.

Jess sat on the couch with his head in his hands. _Shit._ The damn word wouldn't go away. He couldn't think. Why couldn't he think?

"Jess, goddammit! Look at me, you fucker!" Wade yelled, taking a step towards him.

Jess didn't move. He sat and waited for Wade to grab him and punch him. Kick him. Do something. Anything.

But he didn't. Jess wanted him to beat the hell out of him, but he knew he wouldn't, because they were friends. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember. And you don't beat the shit out of a friend, no matter what. And you don't kiss a friend's girlfriend, no matter what. It was understood.

Wade silently stood there and looked at him. Jess could feel his eyes puncturing his body. If it'd been knife blades he was feeling, he would've lost count of the wounds.

His limbs felt unbearably heavy when he stood up, and his head swam a bit, only partially from the alcohol. He didn't meet Wade's eyes when he walked by. He didn't venture a look at Terri. He just walked out the door. As it closed behind him, he heard the sound of an expensive beer bottle shattering against the wall.

_-_

Rory read and read. At one point, she glanced at her door and noticed that her mother must've gone to bed. Beyond the door was darkness. She burrowed further into her covers and looked at the book again. She read about a man – an everyday high school teacher – who became fixated with a woman he met in passing at a bar. The comments Jess wrote in the margins varied from humorous to philosophical to flippant, finding different ways to look at the moralities within the stories. And, not often, but sometimes, he just underlined.

_That when the truth did more harm than a lie, you had to give the lie its due. That if other people had to suffer just so you could have a clean conscience you should accept your fallen condition and get on with it._

He didn't comment on the passages he underlined. It drove her crazy. She had a feeling underlining meant something to him that only he understood. She read those passages five, ten, fifteen times, trying to get into his head.

She moved through a story of two boys with big plans to build an airplane, read as one of the boys realized that things change, and you can't go back. She read about a girl whose father was institutionalized – read her conversations with her stepmother. She smirked when she read one line and made a mental note to mention it to Jess later.

Then, Rory reached a story about a man who was pulled off ambush duty because his mother died. Convinced it's a case of mistaken identity, he goes along with it, grateful for being taken out of the endless waiting in the cold, damp hole beside the road. The man knows it isn't his mother because his mother wasn't sick, because she couldn't be dead. He hadn't spoken to her in two years. Rory read, a pit of foreboding knowledge growing in her stomach. When she reached the underlining, she hesitated, not from surprise but because she didn't know if she wanted to go on. She did.

_He closes his eyes again. He listens to himself breathe and feels the familiar, almost muscular ache of knowing that he is beyond his mother's reach. That he has put himself where she cannot see him or speak to him or touch him in that thoughtless way of hers, resting her hands on his shoulders as she stops behind his chair to ask him a question or just rest for a moment, her mind somewhere else. This was supposed to be her punishment, but somehow it has become his own. He understands that it has to stop. It is killing him._

She was so focused on the story that she didn't notice at first that Jess had written beside it. The first time he underlined and wrote. His words: _He has to die eventually._

_-_

Jess sat on the fire escape, letting the cigarette in his hand burn down to a small stub. Every once in a while, the ash would grow too long and crumble and fall between the slats of metal. After one cigarette burned away, he'd light another, take one drag, and let the rest fall to the ground.

He didn't hear her at first. Then, gradually, his ears picked up on the unfamiliar noise. She whistled again. He looked down at her.

"Let me up?" she asked.

He sighed and stood, lowering the fire escape ladder to the ground. As she climbed up, he sat back down and lit another cigarette. Reaching his landing, she scooted off the ladder and sat next to him.

"He kicked me out," she said flatly.

Jess exhaled smoke into the night air. "He'll change his mind."

Terri took the cigarette from Jess's hand and lifted it to her mouth. As the wisps of gray slipped out between her lips, she smiled a little. "It tastes like you."

He looked at her, his expression solemn.

"I always wanted to know, you know? I knew you'd be different than him," she observed, taking another deep breath of cigarette.

Jess stared down at the dumpster.

"He hates you," she stated matter-of-factly. She was always cruel when she felt vulnerable. Jess knew that about her. "He'll forgive me, but he isn't going to forgive you." Jess blinked but didn't meet her eyes. "You were more important to him," she said with a shrug. "He expected more from you." She stopped to consider that for a second then added, "They're _all_ going to hate you. Me? I'm just a stupid chick who fucks up."

She let the cigarette roll from her fingers and float lackadaisically down to the alley below. Then, she turned her eyes to him. "You've got nothin' to lose now."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. Then, in a flash, he was kissing her. She smiled and returned it eagerly. "Inside," she mumbled against his mouth. Together, they stood and floundered in the direction of the window. She climbed through and, losing her footing, fell to a heap on the floor. She was laughing riotously when he made it through the window and yanked her to her feet. "Thank God your room is small," she joked as they stumbled onto the bed.

He kissed her again, effectively shutting her up. When she lifted his shirt over his head, he didn't falter. He just kept going, finishing what they'd started.

_-_

_Two Boys and a Girl_. As Rory read the title of the story, her heart started thumping. Two boys and a girl – it was a pretty simple way to summarize her past year. She started reading, deciding not to look at Jess's comments until her second time through the story. This one, she wanted to read for herself. After the first two pages, she'd fallen in love with it. It was the story of a boy who slowly fell in love with a girl and carefully, over time, chiseled his way into her heart. She knew without looking at Jess's notes which role he played.

_Gilbert was deeply ironic. At the high school where he and Rafe had been classmates, the yearbook editors voted him Most Cynical. That pleased him. Gilbert believed disillusionment to be the natural consequence, even the duty, of a mind that cut through the authorized version to the true nature of things. He made it his business to take nothing on trust, to respect no authority but that of his own judgment, and to be elegantly unsurprised at the grossest crimes and follies, especially those of the world's anointed._

Rory liked Gilbert immediately. It wasn't long before she realized, however, that Mary Ann, the girl in the story, was not her. But it didn't really matter. As Rory read the story, she pretended she was Mary Ann, being won over by Gilbert's sarcastic charm. She read it quickly, caught up in the love story, but soon it became obvious that the story was also one of betrayal. After all, Mary Ann was the girlfriend of Gilbert's best friend. When Rory finished and found the ending to be an unhappy one, she suddenly felt glad that she wasn't Mary Ann. Then, she went back and read it again, this time paying attention to Jess's notes.

He'd made comments here and there, passing thoughts. A quote from "On the Road" near its reference in the story. Small things. For the most part, the story was free of comments, and Rory realized that it hadn't affected him as it had her. Then, she got to the betrayal. She read what he'd written beside it, her brow furrowing. She read the passage again.

_He was about to betray his best friend. To cut Rafe off from the two people he trusted most, possibly, he understood, from trust itself. Himself, too, he would betray – his belief, held deep under the stream of his flippancy, that he was steadfast and loyal. And he knew what he was doing. That was why this whole thing was tragic, because he knew what he was doing and could not do otherwise._

Uncertainly, Rory turned her eyes back to Jess's scrawled words: _the night in question/and so I answered. _

_-_

He stared at the ceiling. He felt the bed shift beside him as she moved, but he didn't look in her direction. He just lay there.

She propped her chin on her hand and studied him. "Jess?" she whispered.

He still didn't move.

"Jess?" she repeated, letting her fingers brush across his arm just enough to get his attention.

He turned his head and looked at her.

"Shit! Don't look like that," she pleaded. "It's okay. He'll never know. I won't tell him, and you won't tell him. It's okay. I promise."

Jess almost laughed. _It's okay?_ Nothing had been fucking okay in a very long time, and now? Now it was…

"Please stop looking at me like that," she said quietly.

He turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

She laid her head back on the pillow but kept watching him. "Are you all right? I've never seen you like this."

_Then you haven't been looking hard enough_, he thought absently.

Feeling useless, she sighed and muffled a small scream in the pillow. Then, understanding, she glanced at him again. "I'm your rock bottom, aren't I? This is it for you."

He slowly shifted his eyes to meet hers. They said everything that needed to be said.

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it before she spoke. Instead, cautiously, she inched towards him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," she murmured. Then she pulled away and flopped backward, the back of her head hitting the pillow ungracefully. They both turned their eyes to the ceiling. More to herself than to him, she whispered bitterly, "At least I'm finally something."

Jess closed his eyes.

_-_

Rory continued on through the book, reading each story and taking in his thoughts but also finding her own connections with the stories. It was a rare book that could bring out such a variety of emotions in the reader, make them question what they believe and who they are, make them think about life in a slightly different way. She began to wonder if Jess had consciously chosen this book to give to her or if he'd forgotten how powerful it was. She read about a couple torn apart and brought back together, revenge that spiraled out of control, young love squandered and allowed to slip away, strength in the face of childhood trauma.

She smiled sadly when she got to _Firelight_, the story of a boy being dragged to unaffordable houses by his single mother in her attempts to provide him with a dream and hope for the future. She was surprised to read how warmly Jess seemed to view the story. It obviously reminded him of Liz but not the side of her he resented. He'd written her name beside a passage:

_This time I just stared at her sullenly. She looked wrong in the rocking chair; she was too glamorous for it. I could see her glamor almost as a thing apart, another presence, a brassy impatient friend just dying to get her out of here, away from all this domesticity._

Beneath his mother's name, he'd written _an entity unto herself._

Rory wondered how long ago he'd written it, knowing enough to recognize that any warm thoughts Jess had of his mother were stuck in a distant past.

He'd underlined the end.

_This is the moment I dream of when I am far away; this is my dream of home. But in the very heart of it I catch myself bracing a little, as if in fear of being tricked. As if to really believe in it will somehow make it vanish, like a voice waking me from sleep._

_-_

"_Jess_?" a voice exclaimed shrilly, jolting him awake. He squinted against the bright light streaming in from the hallway. Confused for a second, he glanced around and saw the mop of long, blonde hair beside him start to stir.

"What the _hell_ is this?" Liz yelled, taking in the sight before her.

_Shit_, Jess muttered. He jerked his legs out of bed a second before Liz could yank on them. Pulling on his boxers, he stood up.

Terri lifted her head.

"_Terri_?" Liz shrieked, recognizing her.

Immediately, Terri buried her face back into the pillow.

"Terri's in your bed, Jess?" Liz shouted, turning angry eyes on him. "_Wade's_ Terri is in your _fucking_ bed? What were you doing? Oh no," she stopped him, even though he hadn't attempted to speak. "I _know_ what you were doing. What is wrong with you?" she accused, reaching out to grab his arm.

He jerked away and walked past her. "None of your goddamned business," he retorted.

"None of my business?" she repeated, following after him. "None of my business! My son – my _teenage_ son – is in his room in a bed with a girl, and it's none of my business. Since when is that none of my business?"

He chuckled under his breath and turned on her. "Since forever!" he shot back. "Don't act like you care _now_!"

"I have _always_ cared, you ungrateful shit!"

He rolled his eyes and walked back into his room. Terri was already gone, leaving his window wide open. He moved over and slammed it shut before grabbing his jeans off the floor and yanking them on.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?" she asked. When he didn't respond, her voice rose. "How long have you been sleeping with her, Jess?" Then, an idea taking root, she practically choked. "How long have you been sleeping with _anyone_? She was the first, right? Just Terri?"

She heard him mumble a curse word and 'clueless' under his breath, and she about lost it. "Shit, Jess!" she yelped, panic in her voice. "Tell me you were safe. _Please_ tell me you were safe."

He grabbed a shirt and headed out of the bedroom. Before he could reach the apartment door, she rushed after him and yanked on his arm. "Tell me you were safe."

"I'm not an idiot!" he yelled back.

She froze. Then, she released his arm and numbly sat down on the couch. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" she asked herself.

"It's just sex!" Jess spat angrily. "It's not the end of the world. You, of all people, should know that."

Her eyes shot up to him. "When did this happen? When did you get like this? Sleeping around? Drinking?" He opened his mouth to protest, so she quickly added, "I can smell it on your breath. And stealing? You don't think I know you've been stealing?"

Jess couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe she was actually blaming him. "You did this!" he argued, his voice pained. "_You_ did this! Not me!"

"Jess," she said sadly.

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

Liz rubbed her temples. "I can't do this. Why did you have to do this tonight? I cannot handle this tonight," she mumbled.

"Yeah, it must be hard to be sober for once," he agreed. "Maybe you should just ship me off to Luke then? Isn't that how you handle all of your fucking problems? Drag him in to fix them?"

She looked at him again. "You're right," she agreed.

"What?"

"I can't do this anymore," she admitted.

Not quite understanding, he watched her stand up and walk to the bathroom.

"You can be his problem now," she muttered under her breath before letting the door click shut.

But he'd heard her.

The next day, when she sent him away, he didn't even put up a fight.

_-_

Rory read the last page and closed the book, sliding down to rest her head on the pillow. For a long time, she just laid there, thinking about the stories and what Jess had written. He had given her what she needed. In a small way, and maybe without even knowing it, he'd let her in. She felt a tear roll down her cheek, remembering their fight. No longer mad at him or her mom, she was irritated with herself for being so stupid, for expecting more than he was prepared to give. She glanced at the spine of the book on the pillow beside her then sat back up. Flipping through the pages, she found what she was looking for. She read the passage again.

_In the solemnity of her attention he heard himself saying things he had said to no one else, confessing hopes so implausible he had barely confessed them to himself. He was often surprised by his own honesty. But he stopped short of telling Mary Ann what was most on his mind, and what he believed she already knew, because of the chance that she didn't know or wasn't ready to admit she did. Once he said it, everything would change, for all of them, and he wasn't prepared to risk this._

Grabbing a pen off her bedside table, Rory angled the book and wrote in the margin beside the passage. _Then she'll wait._


	5. Mi Dispiace, Lo Siento, I’m Sorry

**Chasing Aphrodite**

**Chapter 5: Mi Dispiace, Lo Siento, I'm Sorry**

Lorelai poured herself a cup of coffee and glanced at her daughter's closed bedroom door. Last night had been a disaster, and as much as she wanted to blame it all on her mother, Lorelai knew that 99 percent of the fault was her own. Rory had been home from DC for only three days, and already they were fighting. And then there was Gus…

She sighed and took a long sip of her coffee as she walked over to the kitchen table. Setting the mug on its surface, she sat down and picked up the cordless phone. With a deep frown, she dialed the number and fixed her eyes on the piece of paper she'd set on the table earlier.

"This is Gus," he answered after two rings. He sounded a little rushed but not upset. That was a good sign.

"Mi dispiace," Lorelai said without any preamble.

Gus smiled on the other end of the line. "Lorelai," he said warmly.

"Je suis désolé," she answered back, mangling the language more than a little.

He shut the door to his office and sat down at his desk. "You don't have t-."

"Es tut mir leid," she interrupted.

He rested his chin on his free hand, his smile growing wider. "Multilingual? You're just full of surprises."

"Zhen bao qian," she read off the paper.

He cringed a little and chuckled. "That was downright awful."

"Lo siento."

"Estás perdonada, mujer loca," he easily replied.

"Hey!" she protested.

"What?" he asked with a laugh.

"Livin' la vida loca? 'Loca' means 'crazy'! Who you callin' crazy?"

"Loca pero encantadora," he clarified.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I find you to be _incredibly_ charming."

Lorelai grinned. "I am so sorry about last night."

"I gathered that," he teased. "How's Rory?"

"Doing her best impersonation of a closed bedroom door," she sighed.

Gus frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't even know how to begin to explain my mother's behavior."

"You aren't responsible for her actions. There's nothing to explain."

"I feel like I should try."

"Then come over to my place tonight," he offered. "I'll make you dinner. We'll talk. We'll straighten all of this out."

Lorelai glanced at Rory's closed door again. They were supposed to hang out tonight, but now… "Okay," she replied. "That sounds nice."

"All right," Gus agreed, his voice light. As he spoke, there was a knock on his office door. "Lorelai, I have to get back to work. But I'll see you tonight."

She smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

After he hung up, she turned off her own receiver and leaned forward to rest her head on the table.

It wasn't more than a few seconds before she heard Rory's door click open. She heard Rory walk into the kitchen and move past her towards the coffeepot, but she didn't lift her head. A moment later, she felt Rory approach and then heard the sweet sound of fresh coffee being poured into her mug. She lifted her head and looked at her daughter. Rory gave her a small smile and sat down on the other chair.

Lorelai studied her daughter's face; she saw sadness but not anger. She reached out and squeezed Rory's hand. "I'm loca. Lo siento," she said quietly. "Lo, lo, lo siento," she added, emphasizing each word.

Rory grinned despite herself. "Estás perdonada."

-

Jess waited a little longer than usual, letting the smoke burn deeply before releasing it into the morning air. The cigarette was down to a useless stub now. He sighed and dropped it onto the ground, putting it out with his shoe. But he still didn't move, choosing instead to lean against the side of the diner and look up and down the alley. That morning wasn't the first time he'd wondered why he'd ever come back to this town, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.

"Jess!" Luke bellowed out the door.

Jess rolled his eyes and headed towards the entrance. "What?" he asked defiantly.

"Your break's over. Get back in here."

Jess's lips pressed together into a straight line, but, for a reason completely foreign to him, he proceeded past his uncle and back into the diner.

Luke gave a small, victorious nod and followed him in, both of them moving behind the counter. As Jess walked over to help a customer at the register, the smell hit Luke. His eyes narrowed, and he jerked his head to his nephew, half-expecting to see little cartoon cigarette fumes rising off from him and morphing into a skull and crossbones above his head.

As soon as the customer left, Luke approached.

"Were you smoking?" he asked gruffly.

Jess didn't respond.

"You said you needed to get some fresh air."

Jess nodded. "There was some of that too."

Luke threw his towel onto the counter and turned fully to his nephew. "I thought you quit."

"And then I started again," Jess answered in his best smartass voice.

"Go upstairs!" Luke ordered.

Jess looked at him in disbelief. "You're sending me to my room?"

"I'm sending you to change. You smell."

"Please tell me you find that statement as hypocritical as I do?" Jess asked.

"Go. Change. Jess." Luke said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, sir," Jess saluted. If Luke didn't want him to work, he had no problem with that. Without another word, he pushed past Luke and headed upstairs to the apartment.

"And use some mouthwash too!" Luke yelled after him. Once he was gone, Luke frowned in confusion, wondering what the hell had happened. He hadn't seen Jess like this in months.

-

"And then he just walked away?" Lane asked, her eyes wide.

Rory sighed. "And then he just walked away."

"Wow," Lane said quietly; she was at a loss. Wearing matching frowns, they both sat in silence for a few long moments.

Rory sighed and moved to lie on her back on Lane's bed. "I don't know what to do."

Mimicking her friend's movements, Lane lay down as well, and they both stared at the ceiling.

"I want to talk to him… I _need _to talk to him, but I don't know what to say," Rory said quietly. "I don't even know if he'd listen."

Lane peered over at her friend. "Does it really bother you?"

Rory met her eyes. "What?"

"Not knowing about his past."

"No," Rory said without hesitation. "I wish he cou-," she began but quickly cut herself off. "But whatever it is, it doesn't matter."

Lane nodded, thinking it over. "I mean, it's not like he _killed_ someone. He'd be in jail for that." She paused. "What do you think he did?" she asked curiously.

"Lane," Rory warned.

"Sorry. You're right. It doesn't matter. What matters is fixing this."

Rory felt a small pit form in her stomach. "I really hurt him."

Lane rolled over onto her stomach and gave her friend a serious look. "He'll listen," she said firmly. "He wants to be with you, so he'll listen."

"But he doesn't think I want to be with him."

"But you do, so you just have to make him believe it."

Rory exhaled. "Yeah."

Lane patted Rory's leg. "You'll figure it out," she reassured her. "Is it really eleven?" she asked suddenly.

Rory looked down at her watch. "Almost."

"Crap! I have Bible study," Lane exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. She ran into the bathroom to pull her hair back.

Rory trailed after her and watched solemnly as Lane tried to make herself look more pious. As Lane opened the cabinet, however, Rory spotted something, and her face brightened a little. "Can I borrow that?" she asked, pointing at a bottle.

Lane glanced at it. "Sure," she said hesitantly as she handed it over.

As Lane went back to getting ready, Rory smiled and looked down at the bottle. It was a start, she told herself.

-

As Rory walked by the diner window, she hurriedly looked inside, searching for him. He was nowhere in sight. She reached the entrance and, allowing herself just one deep breath, pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Luke glanced up and smiled. "He's upstairs."

Rory quickly realized that Luke must not know anything about what happened. Not that it came as a huge surprise to her; Jess wasn't exactly the forthcoming type. She didn't want to make Luke suspicious, so she thanked him and headed towards the stairs.

Luke moved in their direction as well and stopped her before she could go up. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked.

Rory's heart dropped into her stomach, and she silently nodded.

"Have you noticed anything off with Jess?"

She suddenly found it difficult to swallow, and when she spoke, it was like her tongue was five times thicker than normal. "Uh, no," she said hesitantly. "I mean, I don't think so."

Luke nodded. "Okay. Just checking. Go on up."

Rory hesitated. "Um, Luke?"

"Yeah?" he said, turning back to her.

"Have you noticed something?"

Luke waved her off. "Nah."

"Okay," Rory said in a small voice.

"Well, actually," he continued. "Did you know he's smoking again?"

Rory's heart sped up. "He's smoking again?"

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything," Luke sighed. "Forget it. It's probably nothing. I bet he's waiting for you," he finished, gesturing towards the stairs. Without another word, he headed back to the register.

Rory paused a moment, knowing that Jess was certainly not waiting for her. 'He'd started smoking again?'

After a couple more seconds, Luke glanced over at her, wondering why she hadn't moved. She jerked back into action, gave him a quick smile, and started up the stairs.

Reaching the door, she knocked softly.

Inside the room, Jess looked at the door and sighed. He knew exactly who it was. The tentative knock all but gave her away. After changing his clothes and rinsing out his mouth, he'd grabbed a book and settled onto his bed to read. To hell with Luke! He certainly wasn't going to voluntarily go back down and work in the diner. Now, he was seriously wishing he had. At least then he could've seen her coming and found some sort of way out before she saw him. He turned his attention back to his book.

Rory knocked again and slowly pushed the door open. "Jess," she called out softly. When he didn't respond, she went the rest of the way through the door, spotting him on the bed. She shut the door behind her but didn't walk further in. He hadn't looked up when she'd called his name. He hadn't even moved.

They both stayed in those exact positions for at least three minutes. Jess read, turning the page every once in a while, and Rory stood near the door and watched him, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Any acknowledgment would've been fine.

He didn't.

"Jess," she said again, her voice just a whisper.

He still didn't react. She might as well have been a ghost and he, as usual, a non-believer. She looked down at the bottle in her hands and took a few tentative steps into the room. "It seems stupid now," she said aloud but mostly to herself. "But I brought you this."

He didn't look up.

"It's baby oil. It helps remove temporary tattoos. I figured," she sighed. "It was the least I could do."

He scoffed.

It was a small sound, mostly under his breath, but she heard it. It was something. She knew he was listening.

"I know you don't want to talk to me. That's … obvious," she said, gesturing at him. "But… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking when I asked you to come to the dinner with me. It was … really dumb."

Jess shook his head. She still didn't fucking get it.

"But I wanted you to be there," she continued. "I wanted you to be there because I like being with you and because I wanted you to meet my family because, for better or worse, they're a part of who I am. And you're a part of who I am. And I was tired of keeping those two parts separate, especially for no reason."

He didn't respond, but he also hadn't turned the page in a while.

She took a deep breath and kept talking. "I don't care about what happened in New York. I mean, I do care. Of course I care. Because it happened to you, and whatever it is, I want to be a part of it or helping you through it or whatever you need. But if you don't want to talk about it or tell me, that's okay. I get it. But don't ever think that I'm ashamed to be with you. I don't know how you could think that." She sighed, really feeling at this point like she was talking to herself. She fixed her eyes on him. "You are so great, and I know that's a lame word. It doesn't even capture it. Because you are so many things. Things I know now, things I'll know someday, I hope, and things I may never know, and all of them are amazing." She trailed off, letting her eyes fall away from his face to stare at the floor. "If anything, you should be ashamed to be with me."

Finally, _finally_, he looked at her. She felt the moment he did, and she looked up quickly, her eyes meeting his. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. "I'm sorry I made you go to that dinner with my grandparents. I should have known they'd act like that. And I'm sorry for making you wear that tattoo. That was so stupid. I'm sorry for not saying all of this last night. I'm sorry for not defending you. I'm just – I'm just sorry," she finished. "For all of it." She watched him, heart pounding, waiting.

He looked at her for a long time, and then slowly, he nodded. "Okay."

She hesitated, her breath catching, not knowing what he meant. Did it mean he forgave her but wanted her to go? Did it mean he forgave her but wanted her to stay? She had no idea.

She waited another excruciating moment. He didn't say anything else. He didn't move.

Steeling herself, she nodded and set the baby oil on a nearby table. "Okay," she repeated, turning towards the door.

Seeing that she was going to go, he leapt up, book still in hand. "Rory?"

She turned and looked at him, watching as he took a few quick steps towards her.

He stopped, a few breaths away from her, a smirk playing on his lips. She looked at him in confusion. "Are you done?" he asked gently.

She scrunched her eyebrows. "What?"

"It's just," he said, taking another step towards her. "I want to kiss you, but I didn't want you to think I was just trying to make you forget so it'd just go aw-"

Before he could finish, Rory stepped forward and kissed him. It wasn't urgent or panicked. It was gentle, chaste. He didn't push it further than that, and when she pulled away, he studied her eyes.

She gave him a shy smile. "Any chance that'll make you forget and make it all go away?"

He reached past her to set his book on the table, then he trailed his fingers up her arm. "Probably not," he replied, shaking his head. When his hand reached her shoulder, he moved it quickly up to rest on her cheek. "But this might," he finished, stepping forward and joining their lips together again.

-

Biting her lip, Lorelai rang Gus's doorbell and waited. Seconds later, he opened the door and flashed a brilliant smile.

"You look gorgeous," he observed, looking her up and down.

She smiled and stepped through the door. He immediately wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a long kiss.

As they pulled apart, she purred. "Mmm… nice."

He smiled and helped her remove her coat. As he hung it in the hall closet, she sniffed the air. "I have no idea what it is, but that smells incredible."

With a wide grin, he snuck up behind her and pulled her close, nuzzling his face into her neck. "Speaking of which…" he began.

"I thought we were going to talk," she reminded him.

He turned her around and kissed her again. "Mmm… we are. But first, we're going to enjoy dinner. Come on." Taking her hand, he led her into the dining room where he'd created the most romantic table setting she'd ever seen – lit candles and roses. Everything arranged gorgeously.

"Wow," she said under her breath.

He smiled and pulled out a chair for her. Then, placing a quick kiss on her neck, he went into the kitchen to retrieve dinner.

-

Rory nuzzled further into Jess's side, her eyes trailing across the page of the book he held in front of them. They read at the exact same pace. It was kind of uncanny. He turned to the last page, and when they'd finished, he closed the book and set it on his lap.

"I like that book," Rory observed, entwining her fingers with Jess's and lifting his arm up and down distractedly.

He smiled a little but remained silent. After a moment, she pushed his sleeve up, looking at the tattoo.

"It really is ugly," she agreed.

He smirked. "Glad you've seen the light."

Unexpectedly, she moved away from him and got off the bed, retrieving the baby oil and a couple of tissues. She moved to sit down on her knees on the bed beside him and grabbed his arm. Pushing up his sleeve, she set his arm in her lap. "I promise this'll work," she assured him, pouring a little bit of oil onto a tissue. A second later, she began rubbing it against his arm. Immediately, the Shakespeare tattoo began to dissolve. She met his eyes and smiled. "Told you."

"I never said otherwise," he retorted.

She turned back to the tattoo and continued brushing it away. She didn't want to see his face when she asked him her next question, but she also knew she had to ask it.

"We're okay, right?" she asked hesitantly.

He watched her clean off the rest of the tattoo, knowing she didn't want to look up.

"Rory," he said calmly. When she kept on, he teased, "Rorrrrry."

She glanced up at him.

"It was a fight," he said simply. "It's over. We're okay."

Looking at him, she knew that, for him, it was that simple. He wasn't going to hold onto it.

"We'll figure all of that stuff out," he added.

Rory smiled and finished with the tattoo. Then, putting the baby oil back on the table, she moved back to lie beside him. They laid there for a bit, side-by-side, silently thinking. Jess glanced over at her, noticing the way her hair spread across his pillow. Moving to his side, he leaned in and kissed her. She smiled and kissed him back.

-

Gus handed Lorelai a glass of wine and sat down beside her on the couch.

"You are going to make me fat," she said simply. "More dinners like that, and I'll be in the Guinness Book of World Records."

He smiled and brushed a quick kiss across her lips. "I've seen how you eat. I think your metabolism will hold out just fine."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You just want to be famous," she accused. "Dating the fattest woman in the world."

"Or that," he nodded.

"You're giving in that easily?" she asked. "You're supposed to keep telling me how I'm going to be the most beautiful woman in the world forever and ever."

"Mmm…" he replied, taking a sip of his wine. "Truest thing you've said all night."

"That's better," she grinned.

He set his glass on the coffee table and turned to look at her. "I'm afraid it's time for that talk."

Lorelai instantly tensed a little. "Fun and games portion of the evening. Okay," she nodded. "Should you go or should I?"

"I'll go," Gus said firmly. "I have just one question, and all I ask is that you answer me honestly."

"I can do that," Lorelai agreed.

"Are you in love with another man?" he asked bluntly, searching her eyes.

She shook her head. "No." It was the truth, she told herself. She wasn't in love with Luke. That was ridiculous. She liked Luke, of course, but… love?

Gus's voice interrupted her reverie. "I was hoping you'd say that," he smiled widely. "There's been something I've wanted to tell you. For weeks now, actually."

Lorelai gave him a suspicious look, a look that grew only more suspicious as he moved to sit on the coffee table so they were face to face.

"I was trying to think of how to say it," he went on. "And this morning, on the phone, you gave me the perfect way."

"I did?" Lorelai asked, puzzled.

"Wo ai ni."

Lorelai looked at him like he was crazy.

"That's Chinese," Gus supplied.

"Je t'aime," he continued softly. "French. T'amo. Italian. Te quiero. Spanish. Ich liebe dich. German." Then, after a short pause, he finished. "I love you."

Lorelai was silent, stunned, unable to move.

Gus hesitated. "That was English," he whispered.

"I – I know," Lorelai replied. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow!" Gus smiled. "I haven't felt this wa-"

"I have to go," Lorelai said abruptly, moving to stand up. She brushed past his legs and went to get her coat.

"Lorelai?" Gus said quickly, standing up to follow her.

"I jus-" she began.

"You don't have to say it back. Not yet."

She patted him awkwardly on the chest. "That's – that's good to know. Thank you. I just – I have something I have to do."

"Right now?"

"I'm sorry," Lorelai apologized, heading out the door.

In stunned silence, Gus watched her go.

-

Pulling into her driveway, Lorelai turned off the jeep's ignition, staring up at her house. The whole way home, she'd been trying to figure out where on earth the panic had come from – the sheer panic that had accompanied Gus's very sweet, very romantic, and very ill-timed confession. Men had told her they loved her before. Christopher. Max. Why was this time different?

Her mother's face flashed in front of her eyes, and Lorelai jerked back slightly in shock. Emily's voice echoed:

"That isn't what upset you. You're upset because you just realized that, for once, despite all of your best efforts, your mother figured out something before you did."

Lorelai shook the image and voice out of head and turned the car back on. Like hell, she thought, backing out of the driveway.

Minutes later, she pulled up to the curb and leapt out of the jeep, leaving the keys in the ignition. She stormed through the door, nearly knocking into him as he headed from the counter to lock it.

"Lorelai?" he asked, thrown by the unfamiliar look on her face.

She stopped in front of him. "I just," she began. "I just need to check something."

He started to open his mouth to respond when he felt her hands on his face and her lips over his. It took him a second to register exactly what was happening, but as soon as he did, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, deepening the kiss.

He was acutely aware of the way she felt. The way she smelled. The way she tasted. And the way her lips suddenly pulled away, leaving only empty air.

She looked bewildered. She looked, well, insane, he observed.

"Uh… whoa… okay," she mumbled. "_So_ not what I expected."

He stared at her, not sure what that meant… and he didn't get a chance to ask because, a second later, she was gone.


End file.
